


The Mortal Earth

by Mateusz (Mateus)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ash's Catches Aren't Listed in the Tags to Prevent Spoilers, Detailed World-Building, Developing Friendships, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hoenn Setting, Past Abuse, Pokemon Journey, Pokemon With Personalities, Smart ash, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Teenage Protagonists, mature Ash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-11 02:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 54,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17438003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mateus/pseuds/Mateusz
Summary: Ash is no expert trainer. He's a rookie setting out on his journey with a strange pokémon and the wild hope of victory. But peril awaits him on the road: vengeful criminals and ancient monsters lurk in the untamed wilderness. Ash is no expert trainer, but if he wants to finish this journey with his life, he'll have to become one.A reboot of the animé, loosely based on Emerald.





	1. The Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This is my first work on Ao3. To be honest I'm more of an FF net guy (it's easier to find adventure-focused pokemon stories there), but I'm keeping my mind open, so hey, maybe that will change. I'm looking forward to the journey ahead, and I hope this story proves worthwhile enough for you to join me. My aim in writing this was to bring to life a version of the animé where the plot actually progresses towards something and character growth occurs without getting wiped clean in every season and movie. I feel bad for Ash – he has invested his heart into pokémon training, and he far outdoes any of us when it comes to being a good sport about his losses – but because the franchise demands a never-ending story, he will never be given a taste of lasting competency or success. That being said, I'll attempt to make Ash smart but not overpowered, and the story mature but not edgy.
> 
> Two things I should mention before we begin. First, the starting age for trainers has been increased to fifteen, to allow for the possibility of romance without involving children. This is somewhat canonical, seeing as since at least Black and White the main trainers in the games have been older than ten. Second, although this fic incorporates elements from the latest generations of Pokémon, a knowledge of Gen 3 (Hoenn) is really all you have to be familiar with, minus a few pokémon that join the main cast. 
> 
> Now, enjoy your read, and please let me know what you think!

The ocean liner plowed away from the coast of Kanto and slowly accelerated into the Pacifica Ocean, bound for the southeast. Its prow sliced for deeper waters, its wake sent great waves curling towards the horizon, and flecks of salt spattered the proud letters on its hull: _S.S. Cactus_. White smoke poured from its three stacks, smearing the crystal blue sky.

A solitary passenger known as Ash leaned against the rail and watched the side of the ship cut through the waves. Dark strands fell into his eyes as the wind tangled his normally spiked hair; his frown was pensive as he turned back toward the vanishing shore.

It was hard to believe Kanto would soon be nothing more than a memory. He would miss Gary, miss the days they had spent together while home-schooled by the old professor, even miss the roars of the Nidoking and other raucous sounds of Oak's ranch. He would miss Professor Oak too. The old man had been a mentor to him, had made him realize that achieving his dreams would be impossible without applying himself to his studies. In his last weeks in Pallet, Oak had been tougher on him than ever – at first, Ash had thought of it as an unfair punishment for leaving, but by the time he hugged the old man farewell, he had known it was Oak's way of ensuring he was ready. He was certainly confident in his world geography now.

He glanced down at the pokéball in his hand. Fondly, he rubbed the silver inscription on the rim of its upper half: _To Ash on his_ _1_ _5_ _th_ _birthday, Pallet, Kanto._ He remembered meeting Gary's eyes, wondering if the pokéball was the same one they had fought over and split in half when they were ten, and Gary nodding before he could even form the words to ask. "Your mother gave me your half," he had said. "You're leaving, so I thought … not everything needs to be kept apart."

A hairy hand landed on his shoulder, jolting Ash out of his thoughts. "Ash, my boy! We're now on our way to the bluest waters and greenest jungles on Earth! I don't know about you, but I'm brimming with anticipation, and I've made this voyage countless times."

Ash looked up into the captain's twinkling blue eyes, curious on a man that was scarred, pockmarked, and weather-beaten from a laborious life sailing the world's seas. "Hi, Captain Samasa," he said. His mother had introduced him to the captain when she saw him off at port, right after she hugged him and promised to meet him at their new house – he was still salty that he had been given a cut-rate ticket to travel on the same ship as their furniture, while his mother would be flying first class in a month. "I'm looking forward to seeing Hoenn outside photographs. We've still got a lot of ocean to cross though, sir."

The captain waved his hand dismissively. "A mere five weeks of sailing if the weather favors us. You've never been to Hoenn, lad?"

"I've never been to Johto before, let alone the other side of the world." Ash hesitated. A wave slapped the hull, sending up an unexpected spray over both of them. "To be completely honest, I don't know how I feel about moving so far away."

"It's difficult for someone your age to uproot themselves. Still, I'd urge you to see the silver lining." Captain Samasa paused and eyed Ash. "I take it you want to be a trainer, judging by the pokéball in your hand?"

Ash brought the pokéball up against his chest. "I don't just want to be a trainer – I'm going to be a master."

"Ah, that takes me back to old times," the captain said. He leaned on the rail next to Ash. "I was a trainer myself for a few months before I realized I wasn't cut out for it. Every new trainer thinks they're prepared to face the Hoenn wilderness, but they're not. No one truly can be. Many species deep in the jungle are territorial, malaria is common, and the long sea routes make drowning a risk even for experienced trainers. And don't get me started on the madmen now up on the volcano, calling themselves a militia." He shook his head. "It certainly hasn't become any safer since I was a trainer."

Ash stared at him; he couldn't help it. "Is this supposed to make me feel _better_ about moving there?"

The lines around the captain's eyes crinkled as he gave Ash a sideward glance, smiling. "You didn't let me get to the good part. Because the environment is so harsh, Hoenn hasn't been as thoroughly explored as most regions. There are many rare species of pokémon, which I'm sure an upcoming trainer such as yourself will want to take advantage of. Trainers have been discovering new species too – a few years ago, a lass discovered a pokémon called Shedinja and used it to sweep the Ever Grande Conference."

"I remember that," Ash said, blinking. He had never been the type to judge a pokémon by the rarity of its species, but he couldn't deny the appeal of raising a pokémon the world had never seen before. New species necessitated new strategies and techniques – both fighting against them and raising them would be invaluable in becoming a master battler. "I'm glad moving to a backwater region won't get in the way of my goal, at the very least."

"At the very least? You need to put more heart into it if you want to be a halfway decent trainer, lad! I've seen Metapod with more enthusiasm."

"Hey!" Ash grinned despite himself. "That's rich, coming from you, quitter!"

Captain Samasa chuckled, and together they settled into a comfortable silence. For a time, they stood without speaking, watching the Wingull wheel and the white-flecked waves, until at last the captain turned to him.

"Why don't you take your mind off things by coming with me?" he said. "I can introduce you to the sailors – and the Marill we have as our mascot."

Hesitant, Ash stared out at the glittering ocean without saying a word. He could see the snow-capped peak of Mt. Silver across the water, visible only as a white giant rising out of the sea. The mountain was so distant now that it was vanishing moment by moment; Ash wondered how long it would be until Kanto was swallowed whole by the blue.

The warmth of midday bent to the will of the open ocean, stirring a chill wind that crept under Ash's skin. He shivered and followed the captain, turning away from the shore.

Kanto remained on the horizon, Mt. Silver sinking like the prow of a wrecked ship, disappearing gradually into the sea.

~O~

The _S.S. Cactus_ 's crew and passengers were polite to Ash, and a coordinator aboard sometimes let him watch her training sessions, but the days dragged on ad nauseam as the ship steamed its way to the tropics. The ocean was flat and constant over the weeks of travel, but halfway through the voyage the wind became less biting; Ash had to squint in the sun's intensity when he ventured out of his cabin.

Islands soon began to appear as distant masses on the horizon, and the water lapping against the ocean liner took on a turquoise hue. Wingull became a familiar sight now that land was once more on the horizon, and Ash would whittle away time by watching Pelipper scoop up fish in their beaks. His thoughts would often drift into daydreams about the islands. According to Captain Samasa, some of the ones on the port side of the ship were part of Alola. Alola – Kanto was thousands of miles away by now. A sailor pointed out a school of little Wishiwashi to Ash and let him toss bread crumbs into the sea to watch them swarm.

Then one afternoon the ship set course for an Alolan port. As they approached a white mega-complex hunched on the water, Ash realized they would not be stopping at the capital city of Hau'oli like he was expecting, but at an artificial island. He squinted past the sun's glare and saw a massive white dock bobbing in the waves, miles long, beneath lines of glassy windows and a curvature that made the mega-complex resemble a hundred-eyed bug rising out of the ocean. He had the impression that this location was not open to the public.

As the gangway went down with a boom, Ash saw that there was a crowd thronging on the dock. The Alolans were shouting and squabbling in a language strange to his ears. He heard a howl – deep, throaty, eerie, unlike any pokémon cry he had heard before. The crowd parted; for an instant, he saw a masked pokémon rear up on its hind legs to knock a woman into the waves. Ash rushed to the gangway to get a better view. The remaining Alolans mobbed the pokémon.

The pokémon's green eyes flashed beneath the darkness of its mask; its black fur glistened in the midday sun. It was a monstrosity, the crest of its mask standing taller than a full grown man. Its tail was like a fin, though it lacked the sleek beauty of most water-types. No, it was savagely beautiful – its clawed forelegs were sharp and spiked, and Ash imagined they were easily capable of tearing a man to ribbons. A pokémon with a wild, chimeric physique that matched its ferocious spirit.

Once again the pokémon howled and lunged at its captors. Four ropes led from the spokes on the pokémon's mask, and twelve men were attempting to pull the pokémon toward the gangway. It was going aboard the ship! Ash saw a balding man in a white coat giving directions. In his hand, he held a stun baton, similar to the type Ash had seen on police officers. The man walked behind the pokémon and struck the baton on its hindquarters. The pokémon bolted so quick it rammed one of the men holding a rope; down the man fell and went still. The pokémon snorted, tossing its head in contempt as the remaining men screamed and kicked at it. They almost had it up the gangway. Ash wondered where it would go once they brought it aboard.

Then he spotted Captain Samasa waving his arms, pointing and shouting for the men to drag the pokémon toward the stern-side cargo deck. Ash followed at a safe distance. Now he saw the crude cage into which they were attempting to force the pokémon – it was clearly a shipping container, except steel bars had been installed where its front was ripped out. The ocean liner had no accommodation for transporting pokémon; the invention of pokéballs had made such considerations unnecessary, outside of unlicensed trades and the black market.

Roughly five minutes later they had the pokémon in front of the shipping container. The balding man again hit the pokémon on its hindquarters, and it rushed inside. Ash thought the container would break under its fury. The pokémon rammed into the steel bars; thunder rumbled under its paws; its eerie, piercing howl vibrated through the deck. He averted his eyes from the sight, ashamed to witness the pokémon being imprisoned in a cage, something he had only ever seen in anti-Rocket public awareness commercials. Steel chips cracked from the bars, splintering through the air, as the pokémon rammed them again. He swallowed nervously.

Captain Samasa was quarreling with the balding man, snarled words drowned out amid the howls. Ash wondered why the captain had agreed to ship such an aggressive pokémon. With an emphatic gesture that Ash suspected to be an Alolan obscenity, the balding man yanked a mobile phone from his pocket, glared at the captain, and hovered his finger over the dial key threateningly. Captain Samasa shuddered, then glanced at the caged pokémon; he slumped his shoulders, shook his head, and walked away. The balding man gathered the Alolans who had brought the pokémon aboard, and they all filed down the gangway.

Soon the ocean liner was back underway. Ash returned to the rail and stared at the receding dock. A crowd was gathered around the still woman they had fished out of the waves; laid out beside her, the man that had been struck head-on was equally unmoving. The balding man had vanished into the mega-complex. Was the person he had threatened to call cloistered inside? Ash knew he could ask Captain Samasa, but he had a sense the man wouldn't answer.

He turned to the makeshift cage. Captain Samasa had gone back to the bridge, and only a cluster of chattering passengers were standing near the shipping container. The pokémon was still ramming the container from inside.

The days that followed were restless ones for Ash, the other passengers, and the crew. He had never seen a pokémon so relentless, or with such ragged determination. The ship reverberated long into the night from the blows the pokémon made into the shipping container. The sailors' Machoke dragged other shipping containers against its sides as reinforcements.

The ocean liner steamed past the equator and into the South Pacifica Ocean.

Come nightfall Ash crept out onto the deck, leaving the rest of the passengers to their drunken gambling. He listened past the whistling wind. The pokémon was silent for once. Scanning the deck to ensure the way was clear, he hurried in the direction of its shipping container. Under the faint light of the moon he could see nothing but grey shapes. But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recognized the massive form of the pokémon, which had its head pressed against the bars.

Ash edged his way closer to it; his fingers closed around the hondew berry in his pocket. He was upwind of the pokémon, and its peripheral vision must have been blocked by its mask, considering it hadn't spotted him yet. He was mere steps away now. The pokémon was looking out onto the dark sea, its body quivering, its black fur glistening in the moonlight. Ash could not turn his eyes away.

He stood there for what felt like a long time, caught in a spell, the kind that settled over him in the quiet depths of night. Wondered what the pokémon was thinking as it gazed upon the silver flicker of the waves. Did it have a home it was leaving behind? A reason it fought so fiercely? But as the ocean liner made a slow arc across the water, the nighttime breeze shifted, lightly urging him towards the shipping container. With resignation, Ash realized he was now downwind of the pokémon. It would detect his scent before long. He took another step.

The pokémon turned and fixed its glowing green eyes upon him. Its claws flashed as it moved. Once more, it rammed the steel bars, its eerie howl echoing in the night, the bars rattling in place. Ash flinched but did not move, instead watching as the pokémon backed into the darkness of the shipping container, hackles raised. He listened to its growls impassively.

Until, at last, the pokémon's growls quieted to a faint rumble. Ash sucked in a breath. Whispered, "Hello."

The pokémon's growls deepened but it did not lunge to attack the bars again. He took the chance to kneel down and nestle the hondew berry on the other side of the cage bars. "I brought you something," he said. "I hope you like it; I nicked it from a trainer that never locks his cabin."

He retreated a few steps from the shipping container. Waited. He heard a snuffle as the pokémon sniffed at the berry from the other side of the cage. A keening cry rose from its throat, and slowly Ash realized that as strange and distorted as the sound was, it was an expression of weariness. The pokémon did not move towards the berry.

A nagging sense that he had committed some transgression, brought the pokémon back into a struggle of which it had grown weary, crept over him. "Have you … been refusing to eat?"

The pokémon gave no answer, just watched Ash with those green eyes.

Ash was reminded of Professor Oak's Charizard, a creature of radiant magnificence, a lord of the skies. He had seen that pokémon behave similarly – snapping at Ash and all the aides that attempted to feed or even approach him, lashing his tail if he was in a temper, torching any offerings meant to appease. Only Professor Oak could temper the fierce pride that burned in the dragon's soul. Ash should have guessed the caged pokémon would have a similar mentality, having seen the sailors carrying bleeding chunks of meat out to the pokémon each night while he sat at dinner, always returning with seemingly the same amount of meat they had left with. Before, he had assumed the pokémon had preferred sweeter fare such as berries. Now he understood.

It was, as it was with Oak's Charizard, a matter of pride. The pokémon would not eat from the hands of another. Not from its captors. Not from strangers like Ash. It was a pokémon that would sooner break than demean itself. As pointless and self-destructive and mad as it would seem to most humans, it needed to take meals of its own accord, not be given them. Pride was in its nature.

Pride was all it had.

Ash retrieved the hondew berry. "I'll return tomorrow," he promised. He turned on his heel and went back his cabin as the pokémon's cry rose into its familiar, eerie howl. Every night from then on, Ash would forgo dinner to sit beside the cage and silently accompany the pokémon in its fast; sometimes he would sense the pokémon watching him and other times he would only hear the boom of its body being thrown against metal.

~O~

The ocean liner continued south, past the Dragonbone Caldera that comprised the northernmost edge of the Hundred Islands. Ash had mostly hidden himself in his cabin as the ship made its way past the Dragonbone Caldera, despite his curiosity – when he had stepped outside, billowing black plumes burned his nose and eyes, and the stink of sulfuric gases hung in a miasma around him. An older passenger had told him that the caldera was the crest of the first volcano in the world, with an ancient dragon slumbering in its magma, but since Ash was unable to see past the black smoke no matter how much he squinted, he had no way of verifying the truth of that tale. Now they were sailing under blue skies again, and in a few days, Captain Samasa told Ash, they would arrive at the heart of the Hundred Islands – Hoenn.

Ash wondered why the Alolan pokémon was being shipped to Hoenn – perhaps for research, perhaps for a wealthy collector. He had asked trainers and older travelers at the nightly round of board games if they recognized what kind of pokémon it was, but no one seemed to know. Captain Samasa frowned at the mere mention of the pokémon, but after days of persistent questioning, he had grudgingly admitted to Ash that the balding man had once referred to the pokémon as Type: Null.

That night Ash made his customary trip to the shipping container, this time carrying a steaming black pot and a bowl that he balanced atop it. The night was hot and still. Heavy clouds blacked out the stars, and in the distance long cracks of lightning splintered across the sky. Type: Null had its head pressed against the steel bars. Again it was looking out to sea, its body quivering more than ever. It turned, growled as it saw Ash, then again faced the water.

Ash grinned – it was the first time Type: Null hadn't rushed the bars at the sight of him. He sat on the deck beside the cage, his usual spot, and set the black pot next to him. His stomach growled at the scent wafting from it. Type: Null turned and eyed the pot suspiciously – again it growled, but softer this time.

"Are you wondering why I brought this pot here?" Ash asked. He set aside the bowl and settled his hand on the pot's lid. "I was hoping you'd allow me a favor."

He breathed a sigh of relief as the Type: Null did not howl or rush the steel bars, but instead scraped its menacing claws against the floor of the shipping container. It was a better result than he'd expected.

"I've been fasting with you for a while," Ash continued. "But we humans burn out quick when we don't take care of ourselves. I can't handle it as well as you do." He lifted the pot's lid and a cloud of steam curled out, clearing to reveal the orange broth of fish stew, flecked with cilantro. Poured himself a bowl and angled the pot to slide it between the cage bars. He was glad the pokémon didn't take the opportunity to rip his arm off. "But at the same time, I don't want to back out of my commitment to fast alongside you. So why don't we break this fast together? You can consider the meal a favor to me, not rations for a prisoner or pity from a stranger."

Type: Null considered the fish stew, then Ash. For a long moment they both were still. Slowly, it bent its head and began to lap up the stew. Hands shaking, Ash downed his own bowl but didn't taste any of it in his elation. He watched the pokémon lick away the last of the orange broth and whispered thanks as it retreated to the shadows of its cage. Stood there for a time, in the heavy night, thinking. Then, as rain began drum against the deck, he left for his cabin.

The shriek of scraping metal awakened him in the middle of the night. Ash blinked and sat up in bed. Seconds later, the ocean liner lurched steeply and he was thrown to the floor. He had no time to cry out in alarm. He sat still in the darkness, now fully awake with his nerves ablaze, listening. Outside the storm howled and wind gusts ran their claws against his porthole window. Bur underneath the ocean's rage, Ash thought he could hear shouting.

He pushed himself off the ground and flipped the light switch – it was dead. A flicker of lightning illuminated the cabin. The top of his dresser had been swept clean and the floor was strewn with broken glass. Hastily he pulled a shirt over his bare chest and laced up his sneakers; his inside-out pajama bottoms were not ideal but would have to suffice. He started for the door, then stopped as he spotted Gary's pokéball rolling across the floor. He picked it up and slipped it in his pocket. Better to keep it close.

He opened the door and, stumbling through the dim hall, found his way up to the deck. The tearing winds drove him back against the wall as the ship lurched. Heart pounding, Ash grabbed onto the slippery safety rail and peered out into the dark.

The ocean's surface was black as ink. It churned and frothed in violent surges, glittering as it reflected stabs of lightning from above. The air was alive with electricity; the storm boomed, and Ash could feel the rattling vibrations in his bones. Sheets of rain fell, soaking his shirt, cold enough to steal his breath. He heard the shouts of Captain Samasa and the crew faintly above the roar of the rain, watched as shadow people rushed across the deck. A huge wave rose out of the swell and swept over the ship. When it had passed, a handful of the shadowed figures were gone. He closed his eyes.

The scream of metal added its voice to the chaos again. Ash opened his eyes, afraid to look but more afraid to do nothing. Impossibly, another ship had rammed against the ocean liner.

The shadowy mass of the ship loomed in the bitter rain like the hunched form of a gargantuan monster. Rain slid off her spars and rigging, sheeting down her plated flanks and leaving her armored sides gleaming in the flashes of lightning. The banner of the Aqua Armada flew bold from both dorsal and ventral masts, two white stripes on a field of indigo, with a white Sharpedo snarling between them. Across her prow was painted in blue: _Sapphire Desperado_.

Staring at her, Ash felt his breath catch. The _Sapphire Desperado_ was a ship of legend, sailed by the notorious criminal known as Admiral Archie. He was not well-versed with his Hoenn politics, but he knew that Admiral Archie commanded a paramilitary of sea terrorists that gave nightmares to sailors and pirates alike.

Even with the small band of trainers aboard, the ocean liner was an easy mark. No longer able to tell if he was shivering or trembling, Ash raised his face to the storm clouds and inhaled sharply, trying not to panic.

Howling jolted Ash back to the immediate reality. Type: Null! The pokémon was alone, trapped in the gloom of its cage. No one would come for it; it would be left to the mercy of the Aqua Armada. He imagined the criminals would kill Type: Null or attempt to break it into their service – which would have the same result in the end. He couldn't let it come to that. He touched his fingertips to the pokéball in his pocket; if he hid the pokémon inside it, he had a chance of keeping it out of the criminals' grasp. This was something he could do. It was better than trembling in the rain, waiting for death to arrive.

Slowly, Ash released his hold on the safety rail and edged toward the stern-side cargo deck, hidden in the shadow of the _Sapphire Desperado_. He kept half his attention on the ocean, ready to dive for the nearest handhold if another wave swept over the ship. Wave after wave tossed the two ships as Ash made his approach, trembling the ocean liner, careening it on its side, yet somehow the ocean did not swallow it. For his part, Ash made it across the deck without sliding into the ocean, falling onto the metal bars of Type: Null's cage with relief. He took a deep breath. At this point he wasn't sure if he was exhilarated he was still alive or exhausted with terror.

Type: Null loomed over him on the other side of the bars, staring down at Ash, its pupils blown with panic. Suddenly it growled and plunged straight at the bars, crashing its head against them. Ash backed away and held up his hands.

"Easy there!" he shouted, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the rain. "I need you to listen! The ship's being boarded by the Aqua Armada, and we don't have much time to get you out."

Type: Null raised its head and remained still. It did not growl or howl or lunge at him. Ash assumed that meant it was listening.

He continued in a rush. "I don't have the key to your cage, but we need to leave before the Aqua operatives come for us. I'm sorry, but this is our only option." He held up the pokéball. "I know asking this of you is tremendous, so I'll tell you something: I've come back here every night because I want to be your friend – nothing more, nothing less. Do me a favor and don't choose to die here tonight."

Ash fell silent and raised his eyes to meet Type: Null's gaze. He felt small under its weight. While the pokémon assessed him, Ash stared into the dark holes of its mask, at the eyes staring back at him from within. After what felt like an eternity shivering in the rain, with the nerve-wracking possibility of Aqua operatives appearing out of the darkness at any moment, Type: Null lowered his head.

Fingers trembling, Ash enlarged the pokéball and lifted it to the cage bars. Type: Null padded up to the pokéball and paused before it for a heartbeat, uncertain.

Then it closed the distance, and with a flash of a red light and a click, Type: Null vanished.

Ash exhaled sharply, staring at the pokéball with disbelief. He scanned the storm-lashed deck to ensure no one had seen him, then slipped the pokéball under the waistband of his pajamas and into the inside-out pocket. If he could find a crew member, perhaps he could be involved in whatever evacuation plan or offensive was underway.

He was edging his way back across the deck when a bolt of electricity arced from the _Sapphire Desperado_. For a split second he wondered what sort of electric-type pokémon the Aqua Armada had in its arsenal; then came a violent crack and the ocean liner shuddered. Ash was knocked to the deck, stunned. Slowly he returned from unconsciousness. He was lying on his stomach; despite the weeping rain, his face felt gooey and inflamed. He wiped his face and withdrew his sleeve covered in blood. Then he became aware of feet hurrying around him. The passengers, shouting and sobbing, were streaming past him. The ocean liner itself was silent, its engines dead.

Ash struggled to his feet. Dizzy and disoriented, he made his way along the deck. His blurred senses took in the scene before him. Shadowed men were rappelling onto the deck from the _Sapphire Desperado_. They were being boarded! Strange, that he felt so calm with the end in sight. The ocean liner's crew was readying the lifeboats, and Captain Samasa was there shouting directions. One lifeboat was already plunging through the ocean. A looming wave crashed over it and dragged it under; in the span of a lightning flicker, its passengers were swallowed by the sea.

The next lifeboat was being loaded, but hysterical passengers surged past Ash and clawed at each other for a seat. The old gentleman that had told him about the Dragonbone Caldera was shoved off the lifeboat and plummeted into the ocean. Ash snarled and started forward, but Captain Samasa noticed and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's too late, Ash" he said, shaking his head. "Wait with me for the next one."

As they watched the second lifeboat rappel into the sea, Ash glanced back to monitor the Aqua Armada's approach.

Three trainers had rushed to fight the crew of the _Sapphire Desperado_. Before they could release their pokémon, a dark shape flitted through the rain, slicing forward then upward in a fluid motion, knocking the pokéballs from their hands. In the next moment all three trainers were knocked to the ground themselves. An Aqua operative loomed over them, unsheathing his cutlass. Ash looked away.

The third lifeboat was still not prepared to lower. Time had run out to evacuate.

Admiral Archie appeared out of the darkness like a ghost.

Ash froze. The admiral stood alone in the rain, a specter of evil with blue Gyarados tattoos running the length of his arms and twining up his neck. His pale blue eyes stared at the passengers huddled on the deck. Ash's instincts screamed at him to run, but at the sight of the admiral he was frozen with horror and could not think.

Three Mightyena slunk out of the darkness behind him. Their muscled bodies pushed through the crowds, silencing people with their presence. Their scarred faces stared at the people with contempt, their noses twitching for a scent, their scraggly black fur oily in the rain, their yellow eyes watching hungrily. After weeks aboard the ocean liner, Ash had forgotten how malicious pokémon could be, but now, as these dark beasts moved through the crowd, fear reminded him.

"It's him," Captain Samasa said. There was a tightness in his jaw. "This really is the end of the line."

The admiral whistled. It was high-pitched, fading in and out of the storm's howl.

Snarls echoed in the dark, and then the Mightyena were all moving. Fast. Faster than any human could ever move. The Mightyena dove for a sailor, snarling. One of them flew back, thrown by the strength of a man faced with death, but the others crunched the sailor's limbs between their jaws. Blood sprayed the air, an arc of black fluid glistening in a flash of lightning. Ash searched for a weapon, fumbling for the pokéball in his pocket, anything –

Captain Samasa grabbed him and dragged him to the back of the crowd. "Ash! You can't help him!" he said. "You have to run!"

Ash looked back desperately, fighting the captain's pull. "But – "

The crowd roiled where the Mightyena snarled and slaughtered. Ash heard the screams and sobbing blended with the wail of the storm. The crowd obscured what was happening, but suddenly a man next to Ash collapsed, a line of black blood oozing down his throat. A winged pokémon fought the buffeting winds for a heartbeat before vanishing back into the crowd. People screamed and stampeded in all directions. The captain yanked his arm. "Go on! They're too strong and too many! You can't help!"

Ash stared at where the sailor had been pinned down in the Mightyena's first attack. He heard a hurricane of wind wails, snarling, sobbing, begging, before a single scream rose above it all. A primal, animal scream.

Hating himself, Ash shuddered then fled, slipping and swerving through the crowd.

~O~

Ash huddled behind a shipping container, watching the storm rage over the ocean. Rain slid in rivulets down his body; weighed down by wetness, his soaked clothes hung off him. His eyes were red but he was too drained to cry. Arceus, he was tired. He wondered if Captain Samasa had been ripped to shreds by Mightyena. If the Aqua Armada was hunting them down one by one in a gory rendition of hide and seek. He wondered if they enjoyed it.

He would be lying to himself if he thought they wouldn't find him. He was going to get mauled. His heart would stop beating, and then his brain would die. Ash took in a shuddery breath. What could he do? Revealing Type: Null would only delay the inevitable, and Ash had no desire to offer up his new companion as a meaningless sacrifice. No, Type: Null's best shot at survival was to remain hidden inside its pokéball until the day it was recovered with Ash's body or the ocean –

Ash's heart beat faster.

The ocean liner had been less than a day out from Hoenn before all this. He could chance the waves instead of the mightyena. But that would mean diving into the ocean from the deck and risking drowning. Dangerous. He would be no better off than the unlucky men swept from the ship by the storm.

_You'll die anyway. No one here can save you._

That was the real truth. He could hide on the ship for a time, getting more and more tired, but eventually the Aqua operatives would find him and he'd be killed.

He was dead already. It was a strangely liberating thought. He really had nothing to lose.

Ash slowly climbed over the rail, staring down into the dark ocean below, scanning for some floating piece of debris or maybe even a life ring from one of the overturned lifeboats he could cling to. But the swell of the roaring white waves revealed nothing. He landed his feet on the rim of metal on the other side of the rail, a ledge that he let himself rest at for a moment, trying to still his trembling fingers. The ledge felt like a paradise compared to what waited for him down below.

_You can stay here,_ he thought. _You can wait for Aqua to leave. They won't have the patience to hunt down all the people that escaped. You can wait it out._

He killed the hope. Maybe they wouldn't find him. Probably, though, he'd be sniffed out by a Mightyena, and even if he jumped off then and there, he was sure that they'd release their Sharpedo on him. He was on his own. Ash balanced on the ledge, on the edge of decision.

He dove.

~O~

The cold hit him like a punch to the gut.

Ash gasped –

– and then he was sinking. He thrashed in the surf and spat the water he had swallowed. He had already plunged several feet. _Swim, you bastard!_ He kicked upwards with all the strength he could muster.

He kept sinking. The storm-lashed waves sucked him deeper into the ocean, into the cold calm of a liquid tomb. He clawed for the surface, but no matter how hard he fought, the current forced him deeper.

He was a good swimmer. He had grown up next to the ocean, had never worried about drowning, even in heavy surf. But now he was sinking like a stone. His hand brushed something solid – it had the rough outline of a cage in the watery gloom. A Krabby trap? He grabbed for it, hoping it still had a rope attached to it, tying it to a buoy on the surface.

His sinking stopped. His fingers quested for the rope, relief surging through him when he felt a slick and slimy knot. He began hauling himself back out of the depths. His lungs screamed for air. Gold and blue and red pulses filled his vision. He kicked faster, dragging himself higher up the rope, knot by knot. He fought the urge to breathe, to give up and fill his lungs with water. It would be so easy –

He came out of the ocean like a Wailmer surfacing, water sheeting off his face. Sucked air. Salt water burned his lungs, but he could breathe. He freed a hand from the rope to rub his eyes, clearing the water away. He opened them to an intense stinging and burning. Tears filled his eyes. He blinked rapidly.

Blackness all around. Pitch blackness and mountainous waves.

He was treading water next to a buoy, a shadowy mass nearly indistinguishable from its surroundings. He never would have seen it if his head had not surfaced inches away. With a gasp, Ash hauled himself up onto the buoy's metal platform. He had never been so damn grateful for Krabby.

He breathed in and out until his heartbeat was level, staring in disbelief at the metal platform he had collapsed on. The waves tossed the buoy, sometimes making his stomach drop as the platform fell away from him, but Ash hadn't felt so safe since he had last fallen asleep on the ocean liner.

Still, this safety was temporary. If he waited here dehydration would kill him – he couldn't imagine this buoy was checked daily. He didn't relish swimming once the storm had calmed either, since chances were exhaustion would get him long before he saw shore, and he'd sink again, his lungs filling with water, thrashing and gurgling –

_Focus, you idiot._

He had made his choice when he dove off the ocean liner. Now it was literally sink or swim.

Involuntarily, his fingers slipped into his pocket, curling around the pokéball nestled there. He ached for company. But could he trust the fierce pokémon? He wasn't sure he could keep his composure if Type: Null swam off, or worse. At the thought he let out a hollow, choked laugh. Like it or not, he needed to take risks if he was going to make it through the night. There were no safe options left.

Shivering, he fumbled for the release mechanism and watched as red light coalesced into Type: Null.

The masked canine yelped as it was plunged into the waves. It caught sight of Ash atop the buoy and scrabbled out of the water like a massive bull Dewgong, for an alarming moment tilting their refuge on a precarious incline. Glowering at Ash, it shook itself off, spraying water on him, before curling into a ball in the center of the platform. Type: Null dwarfed him, barely fitting onto the buoy even curled up. Gingerly, Ash settled against the curve of its body, nestled between its hind legs and head. It softly growled in response but let him stay.

Ash could barely bring himself to breathe. He reached a hand up to rest on Type: Null's flank. "Hey there," he whispered.

Type: Null snarled and knocked his hand away with the crest of its mask, grazing his arm. Pinpricks of blood welled up beneath reddening skin.

The pain brought Ash back to his senses. "I'm on your side!" he said. "I'm on your side, damn you. Don't attack me anymore."

Type: Null growled again.

Ash sighed. "I'm angry too," he said finally, staring at the baleful lightning reflecting across the water. "The Aqua Armada took almost everything I own. They killed my friends and they killed the man that probably saved my life earlier tonight. I don't know who made you this way, but right about now we probably feel the same. Do you understand, you great beast? They took my friends from me. You're angry? Look at the ship. Everyone dead there was angry too." He pointed to a dark protrusion on the horizon that he assumed was the ocean liner. "To Aqua, we were nothing more than prey for their Mightyena." Type: Null nearly bit his hand off, but Ash pulled it back in time. "Okay. No more pointing for now."

Ash wiped the rain off his face. "Those men in Alola imprisoned you," he said to the pokémon. "The Aqua Armada would have killed us or done the same. Now we have a choice. _You_ have a choice; I've already upheld my end. We can be a team and fight this together – and that means you have to stop the snarling and the biting – or we can die alone."

Ash stood up. Type: Null started growling and tensed its muscles.

"It's time to choose," Ash said over the growls. "I'm going to jump into the water. You can stay there and I'll drown swimming to shore, and if you live no one will be on your side when your former captors come hunting. Or you can carry me. Neither of us can escape from our situations alone, but if you help me, we can protect each other and we might – we might be better off than we ever were before."

Type: Null stopped growling, but it gave no other sign that it understood his words. Ash wasn't sure what sign he was hoping for.

He tore off his shoes and waited until the next wave rolled under the buoy, then dove with it, letting the force carry him forward. He bobbed like a fish. Ash prayed that lightning wouldn't strike nearby – even if staying on the metal buoy would do nothing to make him safer – and swam with the waves.

The ocean swallowed him in the churn and roar. Every time he kicked, the cuts and bruises he had collected over the night exploded in pain. He paddled frantically to stay above the surface. Waves sucked him down. He flailed, struggling to find air. Clawed at foam and broke the surface gasping. Another wave sucked him down. He was dragged with the current. He fought again to free himself from the ravenous depths and came up coughing and sputtering.

He heard a bark nearby and blinked the salt out of his eyes. Type: Null was riding the waves beside him. A wave curled over the pokémon and it dipped under and came up again, swimming with strong paddles. Type: Null barked at him again. And then the pokémon was up beside him, supporting him. Helping him swim.

He was surprised when Type: Null let him clamber onto its back, and then they were swirling forward and the waves were all around and he could see a pattern to them. Now, suddenly, the current was on their side, pushing them forward, urging them toward the Hoenn coast hidden beyond the horizon.

Laughing, he clung tightly to Type: Null's neck. "I'm glad to have you on my side," he shouted over the storm. A delirious lightness washed over him. "Does that mean – would you be okay being my starter?"

Type: Null paused, considering, then rumbled in agreement. Ash felt the vibration coarse through his body. It was … comforting, to have such a large pokémon with him. He smiled. "Thank you."

He took a deep breath, trying to settle the strange mixture of adrenaline, creeping exhaustion, and butterflies in his stomach. He rested his forehead against Type: Null's mask. A thought popped in his head. "Hey, since you're going to be my starter, do you mind if I ask what gender you are, or which one you prefer if you don't have one? I don't want to refer to you as an 'it.'"

Type: Null snorted at the question, still swimming.

A wave of embarrassment rushed over Ash as he realized that Type: Null couldn't give an open-ended answer. "It's been a long night, okay? Bark once for male or bark twice for female, or laugh at me again if there's still something I'm doing wrong."

Type: Null barked once for male, and Ash grinned. The lashing rain felt less cold in friendly company.

They rode the current for a long time, but exactly how long Ash couldn't have known. Time ceased to have meaning in the heavy gloom of the storm. The two passed the time – or at least Ash passed the time and Type: Null endured it with a long-suffering patience – by going over a potential list of names for Type: Null. The pokémon flatly rejected the "cute" names Ash at first gravitated towards and after some deliberation settled on Oblivion.

Eventually, the storm lightened and Ash managed to doze off by threading his arms around the spokes of Oblivion's mask. The sleep was in nodding shifts that broke off at abrupt moments when Oblivion jerked forward, or slammed Ash's head against his mask by slowing down, but Ash was grateful he was alive and able to sleep again at all.

What could have been minutes or hours after Ash last nodded off, Oblivion broke from the current and paddled into gentle waves. Blearily, Ash's eyes opened. Stinging salt and scalding sun. A mirror bright sun, almost white with intensity. Water lapped around them, crystal clear. His arms ached and he slowly unwrapped himself from the mask's spokes.

Oblivion barked and nudged him with his neck. Blinking, Ash looked ahead to where Oblivion seemed to be indicating and saw a beach. White sand dotted with towels and sun umbrellas and swarming humans. Palm trees poking out from the jungle. It was land; the final proof that he wasn't going to drown. Criminals, storms, and miles of ocean and they were alive. Ash started to laugh.

"I'm alive!" he screamed. And then he was whooping, feeling a tidal surge of triumph and fading terror, high on blue skies and glittering waves. He clambered onto Oblivion's mask to better see the shore and the faces of the people staring at him.

Oblivion swam for the beach, Ash still laughing as he clung to his mask. Waves caught them and pushed them to shore. He realized they'd been lucky. They easily could have washed ashore on an uninhabited beach, or worse, an uninhabited island.

He crawled off Oblivion's back and stood. His legs were weak from so long in the ocean, but he felt like he was immortal. He laughed madly at the surfers and the trainers and the small children and the hundred of other beach-goers, all of them staring speechless.

"I'm alive!" he shouted again. "Screw the Aqua Armada! I'm alive!"

The crowd murmured at the mention of the Aqua Armada, but no one spoke up. Ash faltered. Something about the way they stared told him to look down.

Sea foam curled around his ankles, shells and bits of seaweed. And intermixed with it all, his blood. Soaking his shirt and pajamas, running down his feet in red rivulets, staining the water with the beating of his heart.

~O~

"You're mad," the nurse told a half-naked Ash as he sat on the examination table. "It's a mystery how you survived."

Ash was so tired he barely felt her pokes and prods, but he gave her his brightest grin. "Come on, you're really going to question my survival tactics after I've proven they work?"

The nurse rolled her eyes and handed him a pile of clothes. Ash looked down at them: he saw a clean pair of boxers, jeans, and a black t-shirt with a Pikachu on the front. "If just one of your _many_ rash decisions had gone south, you would have washed into shore as a corpse." The nurse regarded him seriously. "You're lucky. The world shapers were watching out for you today.

Ash shook his head. "They clearly weren't watching closely; otherwise I wouldn't have had to jump off a ship to escape criminals in the first place." He held up the t-shirt and winced as his stitches pulled. "Where did these clothes come from?"

"A local supplied them. People saw you and your pokémon emerge from the waves, claiming to have survived an attack by the Aqua Armada. No one gets luck like that – people flock to it."

Ash prodded his stitches, running his fingers over the seams that now sutured his flesh. "It feels much better. Thanks for helping me."

The nurse looked up, her dark brown eyes studying him. "Don't thank me until it's certain you've avoided an infection," she said wryly.

"Is that something I should worry about?"

The nurse shrugged. "You took a lot of cuts from ocean debris, and possibly a Krabby trap, based on what you told me. There's no telling how dirty they were. Still, you're young and healthy. You have a good chance of recovering without complications."

He made a joke of it. "It's a much better gamble than some others I've taken lately."

She didn't smile. "Take it easy in the coming days. If you catch a fever or the pain increases, call a doctor. And one more thing: don't be surprised if a League official knocks on your door in a few days. You've already talked to city officials, but the League likes to hear things for themselves."

Ash made a face, but he nodded at the nurse's grave expression. Watching as she departed from the room, he set his feet on the floor, then pulled on the Pikachu shirt and the other clothes. It felt good to be in dry clothing. There was no belt, so he slipped Oblivion's pokéball in his pocket, silently promising to let his newfound companion out to roam soon. He straightened and made his way out of the clinic, standing in the middle of the street so that he could see the beach.

Even at night, the shoreline glowed with activity, people swimming in the bay by torchlight. Palm trees showed as black shadows against the starry surge of the Milky Way above. The torches flickered in the salt fresh breeze, dancing to the trilling insects of the immense jungle that fringed Petalburg. Laughter rang across the water. It was beautiful.

Before almost dying, Ash wouldn't have known it. He would have been caught in his own head, thinking of Pallet and what was gone. But now that he was a survivor, Petalburg was the most breathtaking sight, better than anything he could have imagined. He couldn't stop staring at it all, couldn't stop grinning at the people kicking a ball in the sand, at the fires where people cooked perch they'd hooked in the surf, at the tremolo of jazz and the clamor of drinking from nearby bars. It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as the pokéball that held Oblivion. Ash could hardly believe the strange pokémon was now his comrade-in-arms, that out of a crisis they had arisen alive and together. He attributed it to extraordinary luck, but from the nurse's initial reaction to his survival, he knew that where he saw luck, followers of the old ways saw divinity.

"It's the world shapers," the nurse had whispered. "They've taken you now. No knowing what they'll do with you." She had stared at him with a face shadowed in sorrow. He had meant to ask her to explain, but the doctor arrived and dispelled the moment.

It was nothing. Had to be. As much as people prayed to them, no evidence of the world shapers existed, just old cave murals and stories embellished across generations.

"Hey, hey!" A girl waved at him from a fire on the beach, laughter hidden in her bright eyes. She was dressed in a red tank-top bathing suit, dark hair tied back and dripping sea water. The droplets on her bare skin shone in the firelight. "Aren't you the guy who washed ashore this afternoon?"

Ash blinked. Word traveled fast … or perhaps not, considering he had arrived in front of hundreds of beach-goers. "My name's Ash. I hope I'm not the talk of the town."

The girl giggled. "You've captured all of our attentions, sadly. Come on over! I'm sure you're hungry after that swim of yours."

Ash tramped through the sand, bathing in the warmth of the fire as he stopped next to the girl. She clasped his hand, smiling slightly as they shook. "I'm May. The other two you see huddled around the fire are Wally and Brendan. Try to excuse Brendan for being a hat-obsessed idiot."

May indicated two young men that looked about the same age as her. The paler boy, dressed in a loose button-down and jeans despite hanging out on the beach, hunched under Ash's gaze. The other was well-tanned and in swim trunks, though Ash noted with puzzlement that he was also wearing an askew white hat that matched his lopsided grin. He had a dripping surfboard tucked under his arm.

Hat-boy, which Ash surmised was Brendan, plopped his surfboard on the sand and gave him a wave. "Can't say I've met someone that rode a four-legged pokémon out of the sea while bedecked in glorious pajamas before, but I'm happy to put a face to the legend."

Wally flushed and looked at the ground. "St-stop. You'll embarrass him."

"I'm sure our friend here could use a little levity after spending the afternoon being stitched back together." Brendan slapped Ash on the back. "Here." He handed Ash a bottle.

"What's this?" Ash asked.

Brendan shrugged. "Coconut vodka. Who cares as long as we can get drunk off of it?"

Ash smiled and sipped, though he had no intention of getting drunk with a group of strangers. He was surprised at the sweet tang of the drink that burned in his mouth.

May laughed. "Never had it before, huh? It's definitely more of a local thing." She leaned close. "Wally lifted this bottle from his father's shelf. The guy just skipped out of the house in full view of his family, and they didn't even notice! He's so shy in conversations that no one ever suspects him to have a brazen side."

"It's n-not that big of a deal," Wally mumbled. "It'll be legal for us to drink when we get our trainer licenses s-soon."

Brendan perked up. "Your family's actually going to let you?"

"No. But once I have my license there's not much they can do to st-stop me. They'll be keeping me busy the first day registration i-is open, but I think I can slip away the day after, once they think I've given up," Wally said.

"It's so stupid!" May said. "You shouldn't have to sneak off to become a trainer."

Ash broke in. "So all three of you are going to be new trainers this year?"

May nodded. "You bet. Professor Birch is sponsoring me, so I'm going to stay at Brendan's house in Littleroot the night before registration opens. That way I can be at the lab bright and early. My master plan is to get a Torchic so I can beat up my dad's normal-type gym when it becomes a Combusken."

"You don't sound very much like a 'graceful and elegant' coordinator right now," Brendan said. "What happened to that goal?"

May stuck out her tongue. "I can be elegant when I want to be. Meaning, I'm fully capable of becoming the next top coordinator while still having the time to demolish my dad's gym as well as that – that _Flannery_."

Brendan rolled his eyes before looking at Ash across the firelight. "I guess I should mention that my dad is Daniel Birch, the pokémon professor in Littleroot and one of the most respected researchers worldwide. I'm not bragging; I just want to get it out of the way now."

"I think I remember seeing the name Birch on one of my textbooks. _Ecosystems and the World_?" Ash asked.

"Yeah. Probably. The thing you've got to understand is, I have no intention of being a scientist even if it's in my blood. That's not where my passion is. I love to train grass-type pokémon more than anything else." Brendan's eyes shone in the firelight. "They're totally versatile and cool, and I'm going to show the world that by being the first trainer to qualify for the Ever Grande Conference using only grass-type pokémon!"

May smiled. "He's completely serious. You should see him play with the baby grass-type pokémon at his father's lab. He lets them climb all over him, tries to teach them how to play tag, and afterwards gushes about how great they were for hours. It's adorable."

Ash couldn't help smiling back at May. The trio's enthusiasm was infectious, and it was good to be talking about something he loved after a day of reciting the attack of the _Sapphire Desperado_ to a horde of nurses and concerned bureaucrats.

"It's a good goal to have," Ash said. "Too many people underestimate the potential of grass-types."

"Um, what about you, Ash? Have you c-competed in a League circuit before?" Wally asked.

"I'm not a trainer yet," Ash admitted. "I'm going to register in two weeks like the rest of you."

"Really?" May said, leaning forward. "But you already have a pokémon … and it's big."

Ash rubbed the back of his neck. "I only caught Oblivion today – no, it would be yesterday now. I think. We originally did it to escape the Aqua Armada, but we're going to aim for the Ever Grande Conference together now that we're –" He hesitated. "Partners."

"It's t-technically illegal to catch a pokémon without a trainer's license, r-right?" Wally asked.

"Ash's situation was an extenuating circumstance," Brendan said. "My father won't care if you ask him to get Oblivion properly registered under your name."

May took a swig from the bottle of coconut vodka. "You'll all have tough competition if you make it to the Ever Grande Conference. The trainers this year were amazing. Nobody could get me away from the television when a match was on these past three weeks, and believe me, they tried. My mom didn't get to watch _The Faller_ at all this month."

Ash touched Oblivion's pokéball, nestled in his pocket. The metal had warmed from the fire. He was curious to hear the locals' evaluation of his future opponents.

Brendan nodded, in agreement with May. "True. But the Conference rankings in the top thirty-two were almost exclusively occupied by veteran trainers. It'll be tough to break past them in the ranks as rookies, yeah, but there wasn't much new blood to be seen. Just the same old faces."

"Phoebe Tura took fourth. You can't ignore that," May said.

"Vito Winstrate was in the top sixteen," Wally said. "That's, um, almost unheard of for a Conference newcomer, even if he was overshadowed b-by Phoebe."

"There are normally a few more newcomers between ranks twenty and thirty-two. It was sparser than usual this year, even if those two did break into the ranks almost exclusively taken by veterans," Brendan said. He turned to Ash. "Back me up here, man."

Ash shook his head. "Unfortunately, I didn't catch the Ever Grande Conference this year. There wasn't a signal aboard the ship."

"That's a shame. Make sure to watch a video of Phoebe's semifinals match when you get the chance, but we can catch you up on the standings if you'd like," May said.

"I'd appreciate it."

The four continued to pass around the coconut vodka as they argued about the Conference. May took a pot off the bonfire full of rice soup, pouring them all bowls, then passed around skewers of vegetables and meat for them to roast over the fire. At Ash's look of surprise, she said, "We've been practicing cooking out here on the beach to make sure we're ready for our journeys. I think we've gotten good by now, but that'll be for you to judge."

He didn't question her after that, but ate ravenously, glad to be alive and eating well.

They drank, the three locals animatedly questioning Ash about Kanto when he told them where he was from. They debated the possibilities of finding rarer pokémon in the nearby routes – although they made sure to describe to Ash in great detail all of the pokémon they had seen in the area before, down to the Poochyena and Wingull. The buzz of alcohol warmed Ash, made the world seem better than before. He was alive. His veins burned with life. Even the tenderness where he had been stitched was only a dull throb. Being close to death had made every sound and sensation wonderful.

Wally watched him across the firelight. "Um, w-what was the Aqua Armada like?" he said suddenly, ducking his head.

Ash drank again, staring out at the ocean. In the Hoenn night, you couldn't even see the familiar glow of a big city like Saffron in the distance. Just the liquid silver reflection of the moon on the water. Far out on the horizon, a few blue and red lights blinked – the lights of ships bound for Slateport, from what he understood.

"You ever seen them before?" he asked.

"The Aqua Armada?" May shook her head. "No way. You don't know they're around unless they're dressed and assembled for a mission. Brendan and I were suspicious of a ship that docked in Petalburg once; they had a whole bunch of shifty thugs for guards. Wouldn't let us sneak close." She grimaced. "They had Lanturn in the water."

Brendan laughed. "I remember that. I tried to swim close and startled tingling all over. Supposedly I passed out and was floating in the water like a cork!"

May scowled. "And then I had to get my dad so a pokémon could drag you to shore. You got me grounded for weeks."

"I said I was sorry," Brendan mumbled.

"They're completely unlike the Magma Militia," Wally said. "That group is crawling all over Mt. Chimney, d-despite the best efforts of authorities. But staying on the shore we don't really see the Aqua Armada. That's w-why I want to know what they're like."

"Heartless," Ash said. His hands curled into fists. "They're not clean or efficient in their kills; they let them drag out to maximize terror. I'd bet that's why they attack in the midst of storms too. To make themselves more terrifying."

"I heard it was because it makes them feel closer to the world shaper they worship," May said softly.

"Kyogre," Wally whispered. The name seemed to stir the wind.

A grimace flickered over Brendan's face. He took another swig from the bottle and handed it to May. Stood up. "I got to get some sleep." He headed up the beach, calling back over his shoulder, "It was nice meeting you, man. See you in Littleroot."

Ash and the rest of the group watched him go. The last log in the fire crackled, sending sparks. May reached into the flame, turning the log deeper into the coals. "I need to head after him," she said. "He's staying at my place. Ash, you should go with Wally."

"I'm sorry," Wally said. "I didn't m-mean to spoil the night."

May shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Just because Brendan gets uncomfortable when the old religions are brought up doesn't mean we should never speak of it." She stared into the dying embers. "A lot of secrets are hidden in those old myths. A lot more are hidden in the wilderness around us. I don't know why, Ash, but your story makes me think they're about to meet."

They continued to sit and listen to the night wind blow in. Something about her words – something about the night – crept under Ash's skin and made him shiver harder than before. Something felt wrong. Something much bigger than him.

Then, as he listened past the insects and the waves, he heard it.

High-pitched and keening, a haunting cry stirred the wind. It rose alone at first, then coiled itself in the wind until the two sounds were one. It was not a familiar sound, but it was not unfamiliar either – as if it cried out to some long-forgotten instinct in his soul. There was a primalness to it, so piercing the air itself shivered, but also the shadows of mortal emotion: regret, loneliness, grief.

It crescendoed to an eerie, soulful lament, then all at once fell silent, its echo retreating back across the jungle into the mountains. And in the hush that followed, Ash heard, or thought he heard, the whispery slither of a being flying east.


	2. Torn From the Heavens

Long before sunrise, even before the first pink blush had touched the blossoms that nestled the village of Littleroot, Ash was tossing in his sleep. The sky was still dark outside his window, the moon a white grin against the night. Waves crashing against the village beach sent the silhouettes of the fishing trawlers bobbing in a silent, starlit dance. It would have been peaceful, if not for the sudden shout that tore from Ash's lungs and echoed out into the night.

He bolted upright in his bed, shaking and drenched in sweat.

Taking several, shuddering gasps, Ash tried to slow the beating of his heart. The room was quiet. Empty shelves, bare wooden floors, a threadbare backpack propped against a wall. As he scanned the room, hard-eyed criminals with mangy Mightyena leapt forward from the shadows, cutlasses whirling, but they were only memories.

He sagged against a pillow, listening to the sounds of Oblivion's tinny snores, the Type: Null slumbering at the foot of his bed. Forced himself to look out at the moon-silver ocean. Not to dwell on memories of blood spraying from a man's neck, of Admiral Archie's pale blue eyes shining out of the darkness.

_You escaped the ocean liner,_ he reminded himself. _You're safe._

Still, the images were there. As bright as photographs and Indigo Conference fireworks. Even with the incident two weeks past, he had to employ calming techniques. When the feeling was bad, he could only tremble in rage at his remembered helplessness. He closed his eyes, forced himself to breathe deeply, to recall better memories of drinking matcha tea with his mother on the porch, or Oblivion's sulking after the Type: Null had clogged his mask with sand at the beach … He took another deep breath and opened his eyes. The room was safe again. Nothing but empty shelves and a snoring Type: Null. Dust motes and the salty smell of the ocean.

He curled his fists into his sheets. Damn the Aqua Armada to the black pits of the ocean! He couldn't let them darken this day for him; he'd waited fifteen years for it. Though the Aqua Armada commanded a fleet that rivaled Hoenn's own, he would be no ordinary civilian if he encountered them again. He would be a trainer. He would be ready.

He glanced at Oblivion, still sound asleep in a pool of moonlight, and felt a thrum of anticipation stir within him.

Throwing off his blanket, Ash slipped into the bathroom across the hall to disrobe and stand under the hot spray of the shower. He tried to be quick and quiet about the wash, but water spattered flatly on the tile. He breathed in the steam, felt the water spill over his back as he mentally reviewed the battling basics Professor Oak had taught him. Being with Oblivion these past weeks had sharpened familiar desires, forged his daydreams into steely resolve. He turned his face up to the shower head. In the pre-dawn night the air was cold enough that he didn't mind the water's heat.

When he came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his mother was awake, looking at him with thoughtful brown eyes. "You're up early," she said. "I was worried."

"Just nightmares again," he said. "I'll feel better when I start my journey today." He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. "I need to _do_ something. I can't stand to sit around here and think about the attack. And I don't think Oblivion likes being cooped up either."

Delia fought off a yawn. "Now that we're both up, I might as well fix us some breakfast. Meet me downstairs when you're ready?"

He gave her a small smile. "Sounds perfect."

Back in his room, he pulled on the clothes he had set aside for the morning. He thrust his feet into his boots, tied the leather thongs, then hurriedly ran his fingers through his hair before putting on his League Expo cap. Finally, he slipped a heavy vest over his shoulders. It used to belong to his father. Hidden bone plates were sewn inside the fabric, granting him a layer of flexible armor to keep him alive on the long journey. It had once been dyed black, but now the vest was so worn it had become a mottled navy blue. It felt used. Lived in. Exactly the way he liked it.

He looked over at the slumbering Oblivion and shook his head with a smile. He had discovered in the weeks since arriving in Littleroot that the pokémon would sleep past noon given the chance. The Type: Null alternated between bouts of bristling, pent-up energy and dozing sprawls on the floor, from which even Ash had mixed success waking him. He glanced at the window, the sky outside still dark, and decided to let the pokémon rest until it was time to leave for Professor Birch's laboratory.

Tamagoyaki were sizzling and crackling on the stove when Ash arrived in the kitchen. His mother spotted him and ushered him to a stool at the counter. "All packed?" she asked.

"Got it done last night. I'm as ready as I'll ever be," he said. He shook his head, a note of wonder in his voice. "It still hasn't sunk in that I'm leaving today."

"I don't think it's sunk in for me, either," Delia said. Her voice was soft.

Ash looked up at his mother, at the heavy circles under her eyes and her practiced expression. _She's trying to be brave for me_. He stood and gently pried the kettle from her white-knuckled hands, setting in on the stove-top. She slapped his hands away but didn't try very hard. He caught her hand and hugged her close.

She took a ragged breath. "We've lost so much as a family. I can't bear to lose you, too."

"I promise you won't. I'm a survivor."

She held him close. "I hope so. I really do." Her warm body pressed against him. He could feel her breathing, beneath it the soft pound of her heart. She drew back and looked at him somberly, her eyes dark and filled with care.

"I'll be fine," he said.

She nodded but didn't seem to have heard him. Instead, she stared at him, as if memorizing the lines of his face, of his smiles, of his scars and cuts, many fresh thanks to roughhousing with Oblivion. The moment lasted long, too long for Ash's comfort. At last she tilted her head, as if considering something she told herself, and her worried expression faded. She smiled. "You are a survivor," she said, relaxing.

Ash smiled back. "I'll miss you," he said.

"Have the time of your life out there with Oblivion. But remember that you'll always have a home here if you need it." She gazed at the bare walls and empty rooms adjacent to the kitchen. Her lips quirked. "Even if you sunk all the furniture."

He let out a startled laugh. "Hey, we don't know for certain that it sank. I'm sure all one hundred and fifty of your throw pillows are safely decorating the Aqua Armada's hideout."

His mother took a pot of newly boiled tea from the stove and turned to eye Ash. "I don't have _that_ many."

"Well, now you don't."

Delia leveled a stare at him, the one that said she was not pleased, then burst out laughing. "I'll buy two hundred of them for that, just you watch. And I'll stitch dreamy men on them!"

"I know it's too much for me to ask, but please don't become the crazy lady of the village while I'm gone," he said, laughing with her. He could feel the nervous cocktail of adrenaline and blue melancholy bubbling within him, fueling the laughter. The darkness of the house felt less empty with the sound, less unfamiliar. It was ironic, he thought, that he was leaving just as Littleroot was beginning to feel like home.

"We should quiet down," he said after a moment. He stifled his own chuckles. "We'll wake the neighbors."

Delia's laughter subsided, but her smile was still bright. "I don't think we _have_ neighbors, Ash." She took the tamagoyaki off the stove and came to sit on the stool beside him. She looked him up and down, her pride showing clear.

"You'd best eat up, trainer," she said, nodding at the tamagoyaki. "Many miles to cover today."

~O~

He arrived at the laboratory early, with the Taillow chirping and every shadow stretching itself over the grass as if to point the way. Ash could see over the fence and into the corral from here, where Professor Birch kept the pokémon he studied. By the pond, the Psyduck shook their feathers; the Lairon rumbled, rubbing their steel heads against the fence posts. Sunlight crept down the hills in a haze of gold, and the distant mountains sparkled green from the misty morning dew.

"It's a good day for adventure," Ash said to Oblivion. He squinted at the horizon. "Somewhere out there the traditional eight gyms of Hoenn await us. You as ready as I am to challenge the Ever Grande League?"

The Type: Null just yawned and leaned against his trainer. Ash staggered at the unexpected weight of it but caught himself before falling over, sidestepping the Type: Null.

Oblivion eyed him judgmentally.

"Do you have any idea how much you weigh? If you were a human, you would be _fat_ ," Ash said. He ignored the Type: Null's indignant huff. "… Whatever. Knowing you, you'll come to appreciate gym battles soon enough. Now, do you suppose we just walk in?"

The doors to the laboratory swished open, and Brendan and May came tumbling out, blinking in the morning light. Both looked geared up for travel in sleek Devon wickwear. A Treecko rode on Brendan's shoulder, its lime green scales indicating its youth – the species' skin naturally darkened as it matured.

"Morning, guys!" Ash said. He had first met Brendan's Treecko a few days after arriving in Littleroot, so he nodded at the critter. It stared back at him with unblinking yellow eyes. Although Brendan had helped his father raise this Treecko from an egg, today was the first day the Treecko would be registered to him instead of Professor Birch.

May beamed and flung herself on Ash, crushing him in a fierce hug. He let out an "oof" but hugged her back. "I can't believe this day is here," she whispered. "Glad to see you, Ash." Her body was warm, welcoming in the dawn chill that blew in from the ocean.

Crouched by their feet, Oblivion growled at the girl. It built into a rumble that Ash felt in his chest – deep and primal and calling attention to the Type: Null's heavy muscles. May stiffened.

Ash snorted. "Yeah, yeah, you're very scary," he said. Though Oblivion tolerated him, the Type: Null still had a tendency to treat other human with baleful growls and glowers. Ash hoped this would change given time, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the frightened reactions fed Oblivion's pride too much for that to be likely. "Now cut it out, would you? She's a friend."

The rumbling stopped. Still, when they broke apart from the hug, May edged away from the pokémon.

Brendan cleared his throat. "Ash, you didn't see my dad on your way here, did you?"

"No?"

"You don't think …" May trailed off.

"Don't get your hopes up," Brendan said. "The timing's too perfect to be true."

Oblivion nudged Ash, cocking his head. His trainer shrugged. "I don't know what they're on about any more than you do."

A scream interrupted whatever explanation Brendan was about to voice. The Lairon looked up from their pasture.

"What the – "

Another scream hammered through the village, followed by a series of shrieks; a shudder traveled down Ash's spine. It could only be the professor, he realized, on the outskirts of the village. Panic pumped in his veins. His friends lurched into motion, but Ash had already taken off. Sprinted past thatched houses covered in hanging passion flowers.

He stared at the commotion before him, mouth agape.

Fluffy pink balls tumbled in the grass. Skitty kittens, Ash realized. The Skitty tottered on tiny legs, mewling and batting at one another with their paws, while Professor Birch crouched in a cassia tree above, cowering at the sight of them. One Skitty tripped over a root and went rolling into a somersault, head over heels, beneath Professor Birch. The professor screamed again. Ash jammed his hands over his ears.

"Professor!" he called out.

Birched started at the sound of Ash's voice and nearly fell face-first from the tree. He managed to catch himself at the last moment, wind-milling his arms for balance. "Ash!" he wheezed. "You're just in time! These wild pokémon attempted to maul me. It was horrifying – I only just managed to climb up this tree before I was overwhelmed."

Ash looked doubtfully at the Skitty. One of them sniffed a dandelion and sneezed. "I'm not sure – " he began, then stopped, uncertain how to continue. He sighed and blew a loose strand of hair out of his eyes.

_How is this guy a pokémon professor?_

He heard panting, and then May and Brendan were on either side of him, catching their breath. Oblivion had been trotting behind them and sprawled on the grass upon spotting his trainer. He eyed the tree-bound professor with disinterest.

"Brendan," Ash said. "Your dad claims he was …" He faltered. "Attacked by bloodthirsty Skitty."

Brendan kept a straight face, but his shoulders shook with laughter. "What terrible news."

Behind him, May clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling giggles. When Ash shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself, she winked at him.

"Brendan!" Birch called out from the tree. "Thank goodness you and your friends are here! You'll have no problem driving away these pokémon together."

Ash sighed and was about to motion for Oblivion to get up when May caught his eye. She shook her head. He raised an eyebrow but dropped his hand back to his side.

The professor's son made a show of tapping his chin. "We do need to get our pokédexes and the Torchic May wants." He sighed. "I suppose we have no choice but to assault these poor Skitty."

"That's the spirit!" Birch said, a frantic edge to his voice. Leaping after a fallen leaf, the tiniest Skitty snagged its claws in the trunk, and, dangling from from its paw, scrabbled against the tree uselessly. Birch shrieked again.

"But wait!" May pulled three pokédexes from her backpack with a flourish. They gleamed red in the sun. "It seems our pokédexes have somehow found their way into my bag! And what's this? The Torchic pokéball is here too."

"How strange," Brendan said. By the tone of his voice, Ash didn't think he found it strange at all.

Now that he thought about it, they had taken a while to catch up to him …

"It is a mysterious development," May agreed. "But it does mean we no longer have reason to sic Ash's pokémon on the Skitty."

" _I'm_ a reason!" Birch cried.

Catching on to his friends' intentions, Ash grinned. "Oh wow, look at the time! We better head out before the day gets any later. Thanks for all your help, Professor!"

"Bye, Dad! Have fun playing with the Skitty!"

"Brendan Bruno Birch, leave me here and I swear you'll – " Whatever threat the professor was about to make was cut off by a high-pitched scream as a Skitty spotted him and started bouncing up and down, flailing in the air to reach him with its stubby legs.

May smiled at the spectacle, then lightly touched Ash's shoulder. "Ash," she said. "Would you like to join us for the first leg of the journey?" Anticipating his uncertainty, she continued in a hurry. "Only until Petalburg. Then we'll all go our separate ways."

He squinted at the horizon, considering. He had planned to follow the winding dirt trails straight to Petalburg, stopping in Oldale for a night in the local Pokémon Center, and then spending one night sleeping under the stars. It was a three day trip total, and even if May and Brendan couldn't maintain his pace, he doubted they would be slow enough to throw off his schedule. Not that he _had_ a strict schedule – he saw no point in rushing to the Rustboro gym before he'd built a team strong enough to defeat its leader. He made his decision.

"Let's do it," he said. "But there is one thing I'd like to know."

"Oh? Do tell."

The three new trainers entered the trailhead, mud squelching under their boots as they left civilization behind. Oblivion trotted behind them, sending mud spraying with each step. Shrieks receded into the distance.

"How did you know to get the pokédexes when you heard the professor screaming?"

Brendan rubbed the back of his neck and tossed Ash a guilty grin.

"We may have lined my dad's pockets with catnip."

~O~

They hiked inland, following a trail that wound through the summer grasses. Wind whipped the grasses into a thrashing sea, and green ripples chased after one another as the trio forged through in focused silence. Their chatter had subsided some hours ago, now only broken by an offhand comment or pokémon sighting.

Ash found himself checking over his shoulder with every twist in the trail to be certain Oblivion was still behind him. The southeastern stretch of Hoenn, labeled by their maps as the Azure Coast, was known to have the tamest jungles and grasslands, but that didn't mean a Mightyena pack wouldn't be tempted to pick off a straggler.

If he had been alone, Oblivion wouldn't have been roaming as far afield as he was now. More out of concern for Ash's own safety than that of his starter, but it meant Oblivion was fortunate they were traveling in the company of other trainers. Brendan's Treecko chewed on a twig from atop its trainer's backpack, while a Torchic tripped over its own feet as it hopped after May. The Torchic was friendly and fluffed itself up in delight whenever its trainer cooed at it.

Neither Brendan nor May, however, were confident enough in their abilities to pit their pokémon against Oblivion. Ash shook his head, recalling the looks of hesitance they had exchanged when he asked for a battle. He didn't blame them – while Oblivion lacked the finesse to handle techniques more complex than tackling opponents until they stayed down, even that was made intimidating by his looming stature. He had no doubt that they'd breezily defeat the trainers they came across on the trail to Rustboro. His real concern would be diversifying Oblivion's moveset before their first gym challenge. Right now, the Type: Null only knew Tackle and Pursuit.

Ahead of him, May halted as she crested the top of a hill. She lifted the binoculars she had dangling against her chest, then scanned the horizon. "Be nice to see someone else out here," she said.

He arrived beside her. Speargrass stretched in all directions, emerald green, lush and neon under the tropic sun. He wiped sweat from his forehead, enjoying the breeze tugging at his clothes.

"Trainers won't venture this far out from Petalburg," Brendan said as he caught up to them. "There are no significant settlements, and these grasslands don't have pokémon you can't commonly find elsewhere. We'll need to go father west to encounter them."

"Bother." May sighed.

Ash sympathized. As a kid, he hadn't imagined his first day as a trainer to be so much … walking.

"You Imperials and your impatience." Brendan settled on a rock slab, and his companions did the same. "Hoenn isn't crammed with people like the Johto Imperium; you can't expect a trainer to be around every corner." He rummaged through his bag until he found a wrapped sandwich. "Give me and Treecko a chance to grab a bite before we continue on the trail?"

Ash frowned at him. "You know I'm from the Kanto Territories, right? We don't like being called Imperial – we're just a _little_ bitter that our heads of clan were beheaded to usher in the Grand Unification."

Brendan raised his canteen in a mock toast. "Believe me, I hear you. Hoenn and the Johto Imperium aren't exactly on the best of terms, especially since the Ninth Dragon War. I was referring to May."

"You're from Johto, May?"

"You caught me." She spread her arms in a helpless shrug. "I was born in Olivine. But before you ask, no, I don't have imperialistic ambitions that involve torching cities with a legion of dragons."

"And here I thought every Johto trainer wanted to model themselves after the Blackthorns," Ash said dryly. "Though – seriously – I'm not looking to hold your heritage against you."

At the flicker of relief in May's eyes, he felt a twinge of pity. Her frequent trips to Littleroot to visit Brendan, her apparent lack of friendship with other girls her age, and her eagerness to befriend him now made a troubling amount of sense. May was sociable, and Ash could admit she looked pretty even after hours of hiking under the midday sun. She should have had a sizable circle of friends. Had the Imperial girl been marooned in her own city, a solitary pariah in its crowded streets? The thought reminded him that as much as May and Brendan treated him like a close friend, he didn't really know them.

"Now that we've settled that, lunch, anyone? Or am I the only one here with human needs?" Brendan asked.

"You're just the only one without the coordination to snack while walking, O' veteran field researcher," May said, a lilting playfulness to her voice.

"I'm afraid she's right, Brendan. I already ate." He whistled, watching as Oblivion sprinted through the speargrass beneath the hill and scrabbled his way to its crest, panting. "I think I'll train Oblivion in the meantime. Shout when you're ready to leave."

_I can already tell he needs to work on his long-distance_ _runs_ , Ash thought, waiting for Oblivion to catch his breath before they moved a safe distance away from their companions. Unbidden, memories rose into his mind of the Type: Null fighting inside a shipping container, or swimming through miles of ocean. _He should have more energy than this – just how wa_ _ntonly_ _does he use it?_

He cringed the second he thought of the question, remembering Oblivion's attempt to trade blows with a Lairon last week in Birch's corral. The Type: Null had expended all his energy in a single full-force attack, then collapsed, completely spent, when the armored Lairon managed to weather the blow. Ash hadn't been able to convince Oblivion to get up until he bribed him with Delia's curry bread.

… _Probably a lot._

Running drills then, he decided. They weren't flashy, but the payoff would range from better maneuverability on the battlefield to Oblivion accounting for his limits before he acted. Ash needed to break any possible assumptions Oblivion had that he'd always have more energy to burn, and he needed to break those assumptions before it cost them a gym badge. That would be more useful right now than improving the Type: Null's current attacks or teaching him new ones.

Oblivion nudged his shoulder, and Ash blinked as he realized the Type: Null had been waiting on him for a minute. He shook his head, brushing aside loose cobwebs of thought. "Sorry. I was thinking we should implement some running drills to start with. Most days it'll be a morning routine, but right now I want to get a baseline of your ability so I can tailor the drills to your level. Sound reasonable?"

The Type: Null huffed but fell into a crouch, ready to burst into a sprint. Ash nodded. "That's what I like to see! Now, I know that mask hinders your speed, but on my mark do your best to run as fast as you can. I'll be here timing you. Be aware, though, that when I see your speed flagging, I'll call you back to restart the drill. We'll do this until I can establish your average time." Ash paused and drew in a breath. "Ready? Go!"

Oblivion shot through the field, a trail of flattened grass in his wake. Ash watched him vanish into the distance and counted out the time with a grin. There was nothing he'd rather be doing on this cloudless day.

It turned out that Oblivion couldn't maintain his maximum speed, or even stay close to it, for more than a handful of minutes. It was what Ash expected; the pokémon wasn't built to be fast. Lower speeds were where his immense endurance allowed him to excel. He estimated that the Type: Null was already comparable in strength to the Rustboro gym leader's standard pokémon. Not her flagship battler, no, not by far from what he had heard, but they had weeks to refine Oblivion's raw ability.

Ash was whistling for Oblivion to return from his latest sprint when he saw a black cloud rise over the hills. He blinked and raised a hand above his eyes to squint at the cloud, which he now saw was rushing towards him. The cloud split into three wheeling smudges. But they were not smudges at all – they were hundreds, thousands of birds.

He watched them travel across the sky, hundreds of feet above but so numerous he could hear their raucous cries, feel the whoosh of their wingbeats. He knew from their course that they were bound for the sea; they had no interest in the small human beneath them. They were Xatu, Chatot, Pidgeotto, Skarmory – at least the ones he recognized. Birds exotic and unfamiliar flew with them, with plumage so resplendent it made his eyes water when he stared too long.

Mere wingbeats later they were again a distant cloud on the horizon. He watched them vanish with a trace of wist. What would it be like to soar through the blue, so high the world began to curve beneath you? He could only imagine.

Oblivion grumbled at him, and Ash shook himself out of the feeling. He waved for his starter to continue the sprints, the birds forgotten.

By the time Brendan was finally finished with his sandwich, they had wrapped up their training and Ash was giving the weary Type: Null a break. May lay sprawled on the rock slab, her Torchic dozing on her stomach, while she groaned. "This reminds me of when we were going to see the Ever Grande Conference two years ago but missed our ship because you took so long at the noodle shop. How does it take you almost an hour to eat a sandwich?"

"Hey, easy," Brendan said. "It's nothing like back then. For one, we're not on a timetable."

Which raised a point that had been bothering Ash. "Brendan, when are we going to reach Oldale? Do you have any idea?"

Brendan shrugged. "This is the only trail. We haven't passed it yet, and we'll see rice paddies as we get closer, so it stands to reason we still have a ways to go."

Ash glanced at the sun with a frown. It had already passed its zenith. "Do you think we'll arrive before evening?"

"It'll be close, but I think we'll make it. Why?"

"I have a video call scheduled for seventeen hundred. I need to discuss a few things with –" He paused, searching for a label that wouldn't invite an onslaught of excited questions. "… someone important to me."

"Do you have a girlfriend back in Kanto?" May asked, sitting up.

"What?" Ash flushed. The idea was almost bewildering to him. Pallet had boasted a total of eight teenagers when he lived there, and being the best friend of the village bully did little to attract the girls. Gary had regularly taken ferries to Vermilion to flirt with the students at Pokémon Tech, but Ash had preferred to avoid spoiled rich girls whose private schools bought them spots in the Indigo Conference. Gary – well, he didn't share those same principles if it meant he could get a make-out session. Ash shook his head. "Why would that be your first assumption?"

"No reason."

He waited for her to elaborate, but she only squinted up at the sky, hands clasped behind her back.

"If we're all done here, let's move," Brendan said. He clapped Ash on the shoulder. "We need to get you to Oldale before evening."

The trail led them onward. It was a flat, lulling hike with a view that seemed identical no matter the distance they traveled. Ash idly watched Oblivion, a distant blur amid the rustling grasses. He let himself drift into daydreams.

There was a chance he could win the Ever Grande Conference.

The hope of it ran through his head every hour, every minute, every second. It flared ever brighter with each achievement. Professor Oak's pride when he had passed his licensing exam with flying colors. The raised eyebrow from Professor Birch when he read those same scores. And Oblivion. Fierce, proud Oblivion, a pokémon that trusted him and no other.

He had watched the Pokémon Channel every night growing up, staring at trainers on the screen that lost to lack of strategy, thinking, _I could do better._ He wasn't a genius. Three times he had failed the basic calculus exam, and three times Professor Oak had made him retake it until one day he sighed and adjusted Ash's curriculum to exclude higher mathematics. Ash had been told of prodigal trainers that could calculate attack trajectories down to the centimeter and command their pokémon with terrifying precision. He would never be one of them. But there was a … sensation that stirred when he stood before a battle, a _calling_ almost, that he felt deep in his blood.

He was meant to be out there, in the thick of the fight.

It was why he would compete in the Ever Grande Conference for a reason more ambitious than victory. Glimmering gold could not, could never, satisfy his dreams. He felt his fingers curl around the single pokéball clipped to his belt and dreamt of the masters.

His heart missed a beat at the thought of commanding battles with the same grace as the masters: mystical trainers, war gods given flesh, men and women who stepped on a battlefield and in that moment crystallized not only the outcome of the fight but history itself. Beginning with the rise of First Champion Taizo and ending with the recent exaltation of Steven of the Grey Watch, their ranks were sparse and yet encompassed all the greatest heroes and villains known to history. They were exemplars of the strongest bonds between human and pokémon, and if he was pouring his blood and tears into pokémon training, he knew he would never rest until he stood among them.

_But that might not be ambitious enough for Oblivion_ , he thought wryly as he watched the distant Type: Null streak after a horde of fleeing Wurmple. Even from here, he could see their eyes bulged in terror. _Looks like he dreams of becoming a wrathful deity._

As the sun traveled farther to the west, rice paddies appeared on the horizon. Ash had seen nothing but speargrass for so long that the sprawl of civilization was a relief. It filled him with the hope of finding trainers, or even new pokémon, on the trail tomorrow. The rice grasses stood in rows that curved across the flooded fields.

Bare-chested farmers nodded in respect as the trainers walked past. By the Surskit skimming the water around them, Ash guessed they relied on the bug-types to feed on microscopic organisms harmful to the rice and monitor the health of the crops. The sight filled him with curiosity. While pokémon were well-integrated into Kanto agriculture, particularly when it came to livestock such as Miltank and Mareep, bug-types were widely viewed as pests. Farmers preferred to rely on slower methods of pollination rather than invite psychic-sensitive Butterfree or temperamental Beedrill into their fields.

After an hour of steady progress down raised causeways, Oldale materialized. First the thatched houses. Then the red roof of the Pokémon Center. Then the dusty square, with long shadows stretching across it like dark fingers in the early evening light. The Pokémon Center hunkered in the center of the square, a squat building that was Oldale's only landmark, warm light filtering out of its windows. Ash whistled for Oblivion to join them on the road as they drew closer. A woman unclipping laundry from a clothesline stared as the massive pokémon bounded past.

May yawned. "I'm looking forward to an early bedtime tonight."

Brendan nodded in commiseration. "If it's all right with you, man, I'm going to grab some grub from the canteen while you're on your video call, then get the keys to our room and knock myself out. I'll leave the door ajar so you can get in."

"No problem here," Ash said. The companions came to a halt in front of the Pokémon Center. "Have a good night, guys. Let's rise early tomorrow so we have time to stop and battle on the trail."

The doors swished open, and Brendan and May trudged inside. Ash was about to follow when he heard the discordant cries of birds. He halted and turned his gaze skyward. Whistling and squawking, massed flocks streaked above the Pokémon Center and, wing to wing, darkened the sky.

Wheeling, dipping, and hastening, they soared onward in scores of hundreds – but to where, and for what purpose? The Oldale villagers, trudging back to their homes, seemed to pay the flocks no mind. Ash shook his head and went inside.

The air conditioning within the Pokémon Center was refreshingly crisp. He basked in it for a moment, before following the arrowed signs to the call rooms. Pokémon Centers were League subsidized, meaning he would be able to access a call room for free by scanning his registration card. He wasn't surprised when he found all the rooms were deserted.

Picking a room, he opened the door for Oblivion and followed the Type: Null inside. He settled on a stool in front of the screen before opening a communication channel using his transmission code. Checked the time. Three minutes ahead of schedule. The screen spat static.

Then the connection was accepted on the other end, and the screen flickered into a coherent image. Professor Oak appeared before him, standing in his Pallet laboratory thousands of miles away. He blinked at the sight of the Type: Null looming behind Ash.

Ash smiled and leaned forward. "Hey there, Gramps."

The pokémon professor nodded in return."Happy to see you as always, Ash." He smoothed the crinkles in his labcoat. "Before you ask, Gary's been insufferable in your absence. If he's not complaining about Hoenn's different trainer registration date, he's either locked himself in the kennel for the Eevee kits, or he's over at Pokémon Tech attempting to form a cheerleading team."

"What?" Ash snickered. "I knew he'd miss me, but I didn't think he'd turn into an angsty teenage girl."

"Hardly," Professor Oak said. "Half of me wishes that was merely the case. He doesn't want to join a cheerleading team; he wants to be the _focus_ of a cheerleading team."

"That … sounds more like him."

"Quite."

Ash stifled a yawn. "I'd love to chat longer, but I've had a tiring day. Did you take a look at the photographs and cell samples I sent you?"

"Indeed. Though I have to say, even having looked at the evidence earlier, I find it hard to believe my eyes right now."

He turned his attention to the Type: Null behind him. Oblivion had his head cocked at the screen and was staring at the professor with narrowed eyes, as if he couldn't determine whether or not he was capable of intimidating a tiny pixellated man. "Oh, knock it off you," Ash said. "Professor, meet Oblivion, my starter and the donor of the cell sample I had Professor Birch send to you."

"It's a pleasure," Oak said.

Oblivion snorted and tossed his head.

"That's about as friendly a greeting you'll get from him, sad to say." Ash shrugged.

Oak nodded, then began rifling through a stack of papers on the desk behind him. "No, no, no – ah! Here you are," he muttered. "You were right to consult an expert, Ash. Oblivion is indeed a pokémon unknown to the scientific community."

There it was. He'd first had an inkling that the Type: Null was rarer than he'd imagined after he was introduced to Professor Birch. Surprised at the sight of Oblivion, the professor had assumed he was a species native to the main continents rather than the Hundred Islands. But Ash wasn't so certain, and the possibility had dawned on him that perhaps Oblivion was one of the unknown pokémon of the wilderness Captain Samasa had mentioned. The next day he had asked Birch to send a cell sample over to Professor Oak, with the request to identify and compile what information he could on the species.

He felt a flicker of satisfaction hearing his hunch had been correct. "I thought you would say that. My pokédex couldn't identify Oblivion this morning." He rubbed his eyes. "It was exciting for a moment, but then I realized that no pokédex entry for Type: Null also means that there isn't a database of possible moves his species can learn. All I have is the moves he already knows."

Pokédexes relied on crowd-sourced data from their users to compile lists of the moves each pokémon species was capable of learning. Over the past few generations of widespread pokédex usage, the data had become reliably accurate. Unfortunately for Ash, the device could only know as much as the scientific community did.

He wasn't keen on training Oblivion with nothing to go on.

"In that case, you'll be pleased with the information I'll be sending to you," Oak said. "A preliminary genetic analysis confirmed that Oblivion is a normal-type, and I compiled a list of moves that I'm reasonably certain he can learn based on his genetics and physiology. It is by no means exhaustive but should be enough to work with."

Ash bowed his head, relieved. "You're the best."

"Think nothing of it." Oak squinted at the papers in his hand, glancing between them and Oblivion. "Yet you should know, Ash, that the implications of these findings might be cause for concern."

"I don't understand."

"The circumstances that brought you and Oblivion together suggest that we aren't the only ones aware of his species."

Ash's eyes widened. "Now that you mention it, it is strange. Someone was familiar enough with Oblivion's species to name it Type: Null, but didn't think to announce the discovery of a new pokémon? They'd have made headlines."

"We might be dealing with poachers," Professor Oak said. "I suggest we act carefully until we know more about your starter's origin. While traveling across Hoenn with Oblivion outside his pokéball shouldn't pose a problem for you, it wouldn't be wise for us to announce his existence to the scientific community without having foreknowledge of the implications."

"You think it could make us targets." It wasn't a question.

Professor Oak shifted. "I believe you should enjoy your journey, Ash, without having to worry about the intentions of criminals. Just … you and Oblivion watch each other's backs, okay?"

Ash started as he felt Oblivion rumble in assent behind him. The Type: Null had been so still that Ash would have forgotten he was there, if not for the hot breath on his neck. He placed a hand on Oblivion's flank and nodded at Oak. "We swear it."

Professor Oak chuckled nervously. "Thank you for humoring an old man's worries." A telephone rang from somewhere in his laboratory, and an aide rushed to answer it.

"I should let you go," Ash said.

"It was good to see your face, Ash." A perceptive gleam entered the professor's eyes. "I hope you know you can talk to me without discovering a new pokémon species. I don't want to wait years before hearing from you again."

Ash reddened, caught. He should have known the professor would detect the secondary motives behind his request. "I wasn't sure an old man like you would remember me."

Professor Oak's face went blank. He squinted at the screen. "Have we met?" he asked with exaggerated confusion, tilting his head like a baffled Hoothoot. "I seem to recall you being friends with my grandson. … Erm, what was his name now?"

Ash laughed.

~O~

The next day was much the same as the first. Unsurprisingly, considering their early slumber, the three trainers found it easy to depart Oldale at sunrise, and once again they hiked in the tropic heat. Ash had his starter practice their new drills before the sun rushed molten-gold over the grasslands and it became too sweltering to train.

They met a handful of trainers on the trail – which had veered west to run along the coast – and skirmished with those that were agreeable. All of them denied Ash a chance to battle, much to his frustration; he considered recalling Oblivion to his pokéball so trainers wouldn't be intimidated by the sight of his starter. But Oblivion didn't look impressed by the Wurmple and Zigzagoon their companions fought, and Ash realized that the Type: Null wouldn't advance his abilities with such lopsided match-ups anyway. They spent their time polishing Oblivion's current attacks while May and Brendan achieved their first victories.

High above them, dark shadows rode the winds. The birds were a near constant presence regardless of the hour, thousands flocking to the sea. They wheeled, circled, spent themselves in restless motion. Ash could only identify a quarter of the species.

He had a fright when Oblivion loped into the jungle fringing the expanse of speargrass, then failed to return for almost an hour. He was approaching the point of halting their hike and chasing into the jungle after him, when the Type: Null had emerged with the white feathers of a Taillow poking out of his mask. Wagging his tail-fin, he had plopped the frightened Taillow into the dirt beside Ash's feet, turning his bright green eyes on his trainer. Ash had felt guilty admonishing Oblivion and letting the Taillow fly free, but he hadn't wanted another normal-typed close range attacker on his team.

In the main, it was an uneventful if tiring journey. Ash spent much of the time thinking about his second team member after the Taillow incident, and how none of the species on this route inspired him to seek a capture. He wanted a pokémon that fought differently than Oblivion, and only the Wurmple he saw crawling through the grasses fit that condition – while there were a myriad of flying-types in the sky, none came close enough to challenge. He didn't want to rush into a capture either; maybe it was unrealistic, but he hoped to find a pokémon he could bond with on the same level he had begun to with Oblivion. There had to be chemistry.

Sometime in the afternoon, the trainers found themselves looking down from a bluff into the turquoise shallows of the ocean. The waves curled and dashed against the bluff, their roar distant, lacking the thunderous boom of the flood. Ash walked to the edge; he sent a pebble skittering into the air, vanishing from sight hundreds of feet before its luckless plunge into the tide. May cried out in alarm, but he ignored her; the farther the fall the stronger it drew him. His mom had always called this compulsion a death wish. He supposed she was right – only men and women seduced by danger would linger a mere step away from a lethal plummet, or tame monstrosities with claws that carved and horns that gored.

The wind ruffled his clothes, and down below he could hear it wailing between the rocks. His skin prickled at its tuneless moan.

Wait.

Ash banished a pang of unease and listened closer. There was something uncanny about the sound, as if it wasn't far enough beneath him to be the wind between the rocks. He called for his starter.

Oblivion padded toward him, though Ash held up a hand before he got too close. "I don't know if this ground can hold both of us," he said softly. "Listen for a moment, would you?"

The Type: Null closed his eyes and tilted his head, listening past the roar of the tide and murmur of the wind. He stiffened as he heard the same tuneless moan.

"That's … not the wind, is it?"

Oblivion shook his head.

Ash grimaced. "Then whatever it is, it's alive." He had hoped he wouldn't find it necessary to investigate. He gauged the sides of the bluff that staggered beneath them. Took off his vest.

Behind him, May's voice was tight with anxiety. "Ash? What are you doing?"

Ash pretended he hadn't heard her, hooking his vest on one of the spokes protruding from Oblivion's mask. The Type: Null glowered at him, and Ash was surprised he didn't shred the vest forthwith.

"Hey, you've got the easy job, buddy," he said, mustering a brave grin. He hoped it was convincing. "Just stand there and be a good coat hanger until I get back."

Oblivion stared at him. Was there a flicker of apprehension in those green eyes? Or was Ash simply seeing what he hoped was there? He forced the thought away; distraction would be a killer during his impending descent.

"Hey, man," Brendan called. "If you're planning to jump into the waves here, don't. People dive off cliffs at beaches, yeah, but this cliff's too high and the water's too shallow."

Ash stretched, rotating his shoulders to loosen the tense knots. Looked up at his companions. "There's something crying concealed somewhere down the bluff. It might be in pain," he said. "I'm going to check it out."

Brendan frowned. "I don't know, dude. I don't want to see you die on your second day as a trainer. This is reckless."

"I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think I could handle the climb. I've made up my mind," Ash said. He was curious, and besides, he couldn't stomach the idea of ignoring the strange moans – what if they were a plea for help? He crouched, wedged his foot into a crack several feet down the bluff, and lowered himself to begin the descent.

May hurried forward and crouched in front of him, pale with worry. "Wait, maybe we can –"

"I'll be okay, May. Now please be quiet," Ash said. "I'll need to concentrate."

She swallowed but didn't protest again.

Shifting only a single hand or foot at a time, Ash climbed down the rock face with careful control. Once his view of May was swallowed by the bluff looming above him, he paused to survey the terrain ahead. Clinging to the sheer descent like an Ariados gave him a sweeping view of the bluff, hundreds of feet of crumbling volcanic rock. The turquoise ocean glittered below, so distant it made his head spin. A vision of his body plummeting through the air to splatter in the waves brought sweat to his palms; he had the sudden heady conviction he was slipping.

Ash killed the thought. He had spent his youth shimmying up trees with Gary, leaping from branch to branch, sometimes even attempting to climb the ancient red oak deep in the woods that fringed Pallet. He was confident in his ability to choose a safe route, confident in the memory of his muscles to carry him through. Eying the bluff, he identified plenty of small ledges and cracks in the black rock; he mentally traced out a path to a dark crevice that was roughly fifty feet beneath him. It was the only concealment he saw, an angry gash in the bluff that was deep in shadow. The moans had to be coming from there.

Steadying his breath, he concentrated on the gritted surface under his palms until nothing else existed. Then he moved, twisting and reaching with a sinuous grace as his fingers sought out ledges.

For an exhilarating spell, the world was whittled down to Ash and the cliff. His body danced down the rocks, every muscle leaping to his command, his mind locked in sharp focus on each successive set of holds. Adrenaline sang in his veins.

But luck was against him. He was stretching out a hand to the crevice when the rock beneath his stabilizing hand crumbled. His center of balance vanished in a sickening lurch.

Ash only had time to feel cold shock and then he was slipping through empty air. Every granule in the rocks burst into knife-edged clarity as his grip on survival fell away. He yelled desperately. Pushed off with the final inch of traction his foot had and lunged for the crevice.

Skin tore from his fingers as they slammed against rock. He scrabbled for a grip. Screamed as the full thrust of his weight yanked down on them.

Thudding to a stop, he dangled above the abyss.

Ash gasped, blood roaring in his ears. Wind gusted and tugged at him, and he hung there for a moment, tremors wracking his muscles. He pulled himself up into the crevice; dully, he realized it was wide enough for two men and stretched backward into dismal gloom. His whole body was shaking. He slumped against the crevice wall and closed his eyes until his heartbeat was level. He wanted to collapse. To let himself slide into gentle slumber and feel the adrenaline overdose ebb away …

Moans from the dark.

Ash's back stiffened, and he opened his eyes to peer into the shadows. "Who's there?" he called. The words echoed in the claustrophobic cave. Deciding on precaution, he continued, "Are you hurt? I only came to help. If you're not, I'll just be on my way."

The moans stopped. Ash heard the scraping shuffle of talons against stone, and a pokémon he didn't recognize stepped into the pool of light.

It was a frail, wispy bird that dragged broken wings behind it. Ash watched its listless shuffle with a wince, feeling a stab of pity as it collapsed to shiver at his feet. It would have once been a beautiful pokémon to observe in full flight, he mused, but no longer. Its eyes were glazed over in pain; its wings were bent at unnatural angles; its icy blue plumage was matted with blood.

It didn't even protest when he scooped it up and cradled it against his chest.

"There, there," he murmured, adjusting its alabaster wings so he wouldn't shift the broken bones. "It's okay now. I won't let anything happen to you."

The pokémon cried out weakly and snuggled into him, its shivering so acute he was afraid he would drop it. His heart ached. Settling it into his lap, he pulled off his t-shirt and gently wrapped it around the pokémon until it was a tiny bundle with a beak poking out. He hoped that would keep it warm.

Ash glanced into the bright blue that waited beyond the mouth of the crevice. Considered catching the pokémon with one of the balls clipped to his belt – the climb would be treacherous with only one free hand. But as soon as he had the idea, he dismissed it. The process of capture was often traumatic for pokémon that didn't understand what was happening, and the little bird didn't look lucid right now. It would likely injure itself further trying to break free, or worse. It was easy to picture it jumping off the crevice in panic.

He'd rather risk the climb. He never liked gambling on chance. But a gamble on his own skill and wit – that was one worth taking.

Sweat sheening off his back, Ash tucked the shivering bundle against his chest and began the slow ascent.

~O~

"Will you sit down? Your pacing makes me nervous."

Ash stopped and scowled at Brendan. "I'd feel better doing this myself."

Brendan waved an absent hand and resumed bandaging the little bird's wounds. The pokémon was still shuddering, lost in the fog of pain, but Brendan had managed to wash the blood out of its plumage and spray a potion on the worst gashes. "You're dirty, you're cut up, and your fingers are bleeding. Do you _want_ to give this Swablu an infection? Tend to yourself first."

Ash tilted his head like a Growlithe catching a scent. "It's called a Swablu?" He had left his pokédex in his vest pocket during the climb, and said vest was still hooked to a napping Oblivion. His blood was buzzing like he'd drunk an entire bottle of coconut vodka – he didn't want to risk waking Oblivion and spending his post-adrenaline high placating a grumpy pokémon.

He twitched as he felt May's cool fingers alight on his shoulder blades. She gently pushed him to the ground. Frowning, he went along with it, settling into a criss-cross on the grass. "Maaaay," he said, leaning back and looking up at her. "I thought you of all people would be on my side. This is one betrayal after another."

May smiled. "Oh, hush." Her bright blue eyes flickered over his bare chest. Ash blinked up at her, waiting. She appeared lost in thought.

"What're you thinking about?" he asked after a moment.

She jumped a little, flushed. "Oh! Nothing, just wondering if we need to apply hydrogel on any of your scrapes."

Ash shrugged. "I think I'm fine. Even my hands aren't that bad."

He raised an eyebrow when he saw May's shoulders slump a little at that remark. Did she want him to be hurt? That … seemed out of character for her.

"Okay, well, just let me know if you change your mind. I'd be happy to help."

Brendan snickered while he tied off the Swablu's last bandage. "Yes, May, because you're just so _helpful_."

"Shut it, or I'll tell Max you want him to tag along on your journey," May growled.

"You'd sic that little brat on me!" Brendan faked a gasp. "I'm devastated. I thought we had a better relationship than that."

Ash rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he's not that bad if he's your brother, May." He had heard snippets about May's life in Petalburg. "But speaking of wounds, what are we going to do about the Swablu's wings?"

"I've splinted them, but that's the most we can do until we get to the Petalburg Pokémon Center," Brendan said. His expression darkened. "We can't let it back into the wild. It's easy pickings for hungry Mightyena while it can't fly."

Ash glanced at the Swablu. It had crawled back under his crumpled t-shirt, and he would have thought it had escaped if not for the trembling fabric. "I wonder what hurt it … or why it was in that crevice," he said.

"It was probably migrating with its flock when it was attacked by a pokémon and got separated. Swablu are social creatures – if they're not traveling with a trainer, they're traveling with a flock," Brendan said. "Beyond that, we'd have to try asking it when it's feeling better."

"Really? You think it was migrating? I was wondering why there were so many bird pokémon in the sky, but it's still early summer."

May knelt down and ruffled her Torchic's feathers. The Torchic cooed contentedly. "I thought the same when I first moved here. But we're in the tropics, Ash. Pokémon migrate here for the winter, then fly for more temperate climates in the spring. The last lingering flocks are now leaving."

"Huh." Ash said. "So maybe this little bird wants to reunite with its flock."

"It doesn't have much time left if that's true," May said.

All three of them stared solemnly at the shivering t-shirt.

Ash lowered himself to the ground, so he wouldn't loom over the Swablu. He slowly lifted up the shirt.

The Swablu blinked at him. Its feathers were fluffed up in alarm.

"Hey there," he said softly. "I was wondering if you'd let us take you to the city so a Nurse Joy – a healer – can look at your wings. You miss your flock and want to reunite with them, right? We just want to help you catch up to them, and this is the fastest way we know."

The Swablu hesitated. It stared up at the scudding clouds, brimming with an emotion Ash couldn't identify.

Ash removed an empty pokéball from the pouch on his belt and offered it to the Swablu. "It's up to you. I know you probably associate pokéballs with permanent capture, but it doesn't have to be like that. I'm only suggesting this because it'll make the pain go away until we can get you properly treated."

In the end, the offer to escape its pain prevailed. Hunched in misery and eyes shining in sadness, the bandaged Swablu shuffled forward. It pecked the pokéball. Vanished.

Ash picked up the pokéball once it finished wriggling. He felt the satisfying click that signified a capture. It was strange. Strange that his first capture wasn't a pokémon he planned on keeping. Strange that he could now clip another pokéball to his belt when it didn't truly mean anything.

"Hey, chin up," May said. "You did something great today. Even if this wasn't the capture you envisioned, that Swablu will see you as its hero no matter how many oceans away it is."

Ash gave her a small smile. But an afterimage of the Swablu's grisly wounds and blood-stained feathers lingered in his mind. "You're right. Thanks, May."

The trainers continued on the trail, but with greater vigor than before. Every flock that flew along the coast, every Wingull that circled overhead, reminded them that the Swablu was trusting them with its future. Sweat trickled down their foreheads and stuck clothes to their skin.

Out of curiosity, Ash scanned the Swablu's pokéball during a flat stretch in the hike. The pokédex informed him that the Swablu was a female and knew the moves Peck, Sing, Mist, and Agility. A strategic movepool. He could already picture a litany of tricks he could unleash with that combination of moves. Scrolling through the data pages, he was surprised to note that Altaria, the final evolution of the species, was a dual dragon and flying-type pokémon with strong fairy-type traits.

Interesting. While Ash had his heart set on catching one of Hoenn's more iconic dragon-types – Kingdra, Flygon, or Salamence – during his travels, fairy was an uncommon but powerful typing. He'd do well to add a pokémon with an arsenal of fairy-type moves to his team. He considered offering the Swablu a home with him if Nurse Joy delivered disheartening news. It wouldn't be a question of whether the Swablu would recover; it would be a question of whether she would recover in time to make the migration. Modern medicine worked wonders, but there were still limitations.

Ash shoved the grim thoughts away and focused on the hike.

Night was nearly upon them when they found a cool green pond, full of algae and lily pads, fringed by the creep of the jungle. Mosquitoes wheeled against the purple sky, only to be met by the flash of a tongue as Brendan's Treecko crouched hungrily. Ash met the eyes of his two companions and realized they all had the same thought: if they camped here, there was a chance they could catch an unusual pokémon while it drank.

"Let's stop here for the night," Ash said, and his companions nodded. He led them off the trail, through the broad-leafed spoon lily and ferns. They found a more or less suitable campsite behind a gobletfruit shrub, which grew to little more than head height. May released her Torchic to scurry through the ferns and make a little nest for itself out of gathered leaves and lichen. Oblivion was already outside his pokéball, having loped ahead of the trio for the day, and settled down in the ferns nearest Ash. He growled at the two starter pokémon whenever they approached him.

Ash listened to the squabbling of the Torchic and Treecko about a long twig as he looked around, a frown on his face. His skin prickled. There was something there, so faint he felt more than heard it, just beyond the sighing wind. Slithering.

He twitched his fingers. His hand drifted to his belt, which would contain multiple pokémon and a combat knife if he were a veteran trainer. But aside from the lonely pokéballs of Oblivion and the Swablu, the loops and clips on it were empty. "Oblivion, be on guard," he called softly.

The Type: Null opened his half-lidded eyes, raising his head. A low rumble built in his chest. But he stayed concealed in the ferns.

Ash raised his voice. "I know you're there!" he called, and his words echoed in the night. May and Brendan stopped unrolling their sleeping bags, instinctively checking for their pokémon. May's own hand drifted to the camping knife she kept strapped on her pack.

Stillness. The trilling insects and distant barks from the jungle were only noises as Ash's band and the prowler waited for the other to make their move. Then, a rustling. The ferns parted.

A shock of dyed green hair emerged, followed by a dirt-covered teenager with a curled upper lip. He must have been army-crawling his way towards their camp, Ash realized, and in his haste had given himself away.

Ash exchanged a bewildered look with his companions.

"Who are you?" May demanded, standing up.

The stranger crossed his arms. His lips twisted into a smirk as he sighted the girl, a glint in his eyes. "Why should I answer when by all rights you should already know who I am, May Maple?"

She recoiled. "Why should I know some Rayquaza-forsaken _creep_ crawling through the bushes!"

"Any coordinator worth a ribbon should properly scout out their competition. Which is precisely what I was doing." He flicked his hair and gave her a coy smile.

"Wha …?" May stared at him, open-mouthed. But quick as a Jolteon, her eyes narrowed in rage as his words sank in. "Watching me get ready for bed is not scouting!" she shouted. A flock of Taillow roosting at the pond scattered across the sky.

"You've got an interesting technique, buddy," Brendan observed.

Ash crossed his own arms as he squared up against the strange coordinator. "Well, scouting accomplished. Time to leave."

The coordinator laughed, tipping back his head to expose the pale flesh of his throat. "Oh no, I'm nowhere near finished. You have a _lovely_ campsite here." He looked at May. "Quite delectable, quite ripe for the company of another, if you know what I mean. I won't be finding a better spot to camp tonight out here in backcountry, so be good hosts, hm? I think you'll come to appreciate the presence of a true coordinator."

The coordinator's initial impression had hardly been positive, but now Ash could say he'd had enough. He could tell the coordinator was interested in May – the signs were as clear as the Johto lakes said to be purified by Suicune – but he had never understood why some people confused flirting with demeaning their crush. He'd never date a girl like that.

"You must be out of your mind if you think I'm going to let you stay!" May's eyes blazed. "I – I – get lost!"

"How delicious," the coordinator said. "You're acting like your approval matters, when in fact I'm free to do as I please. Power rules the day, you know. I may have started my journey on registration day like you lot, but my pokémon have been in my family for far longer. None of you could even put a scratch on their beauty."

Now all three of them had their arms crossed and were glaring at the coordinator. "Try us," May said.

He unclipped a pokéball from his belt. "Commendable courage in a rival! _Most_ amusing. I look forward to grinding you to dust, May Maple."

May giggled, but for once it was not a nice sound. There was a vicious undertone to it. "Like I'd give you the satisfaction. You're battling Ash instead, in a one-on-one match. Trust me, this won't end well for you."

Ash blinked, startled, as he realized that May was passing the baton to him. Though she had disguised her rationale with a boast, he knew that she wasn't confident either she or Brendan could defeat the coordinator's experienced pokémon. He and Oblivion stood the best chance against the sneering boy.

"After you," Ash said.

The coordinator's eyes darted to the Treecko and Torchic, but Ash noted he didn't seem to spot the hulking Type: Null lying under the ferns. "I see the three trainers selected by Professor Birch are traveling together. It only takes the process of elimination to realize you have a Mudkip. This should be simple." He tossed a pokéball. "Vivillon, let's go!"

A pink-winged insect burst from its pokéball with a trill, fluttering in the air. Ash inwardly winced. He had been hoping the pokémon wouldn't be a flying-type – right now Oblivion lacked the coverage to attack aerial combatants, knowing only Tackle and Pursuit. This could be a problem.

He didn't let it show. Flipping open his pokédex, he glanced at the results from its automatic data scan. Vivillon: a dual bug and flying-type native to Kalos, closely related to other lepidoptera pokémon, including Butterfree and Beautifly. Nothing he couldn't have guessed himself.

"Princess Aria fan?" Brendan asked.

The coordinator sniffed. "Yes. I simply had to get a Scatterbug for my birthday after watching Aria's Laverre performance. I'm surprised you know of her. Trainers are generally so uncultured."

"He has a poster of Aria on his wall," May said. Then, in between coughs, she muttered, "… and he's had a puppy crush on her since he was twelve."

Brendan's face reddened, and he elbowed May. Hard.

Ash gave his companions a significant look, and they quieted down. "Oblivion, the fight's on!" he called.

From the ferns, the dark shape of a towering pokémon rose.

Ash stepped backward instinctively. The pokémon loomed over the four trainers, its muscles rippling under its coat, its eyes burning an infernal green beneath the mask bolted to its skull. Growls rose into a roar that cracked like thunder across the humid Hoenn night. Ash shivered in awe; he never could have imagined he would have a starter so magnificent.

He couldn't fail him.

The coordinator stepped back, his hands trembling. "What – _what is that thing_?" His Vivillon quailed above him, circling nervously.

His fear gave Ash confidence and slowly he was beginning to piece together a strategy. A memory of Pallet flickered in his mind.

Professor Oak had been carrying a fallen Butterfree back to its roost in last winter's rains, Ash cradling its companion, while the professor explained to him that lepidoptera pokémon like Butterfree, Beautifly, and Vivillon had a thermal threshold required for flight. He said it was why they often basked in the sunlight, exposing their wings to warm their flight muscles – if they were too cold they became feeble land-crawlers, unable to gather the solar radiation needed to take wing. Dedicated levitation techniques, similarly to water-locked pokémon, were the only path to overcoming their biological weakness.

Ash could use that. The Vivillon's wings still had a translucent shimmer to them; it had to be freshly evolved. If Oblivion could last until until the cold night made it impossible for the Vivillon to fly, defeating it on the ground would be simple. The trick was ensuring the battled lasted long enough for that to happen. Until then, the Vivillon would be able to attack Oblivion with impunity.

It would be a risk, of that he was certain. But he wasn't going to hesitate when it was the only shot he had.

He grinned at the coordinator. "That's what you have to defeat," he said.

He took the first move. "Oblivion, stand ready to shake off its attacks!" More softly, he called out, "Move away from the tree cover. The Vivillon needs to be lured into the winds if we're going to beat it."

Oblivion bounded into the starlit speargrasses, then turned to growl at the Vivillon, his hackles raised. The Vivillon flew in closer but still remained far above the reach of his snapping jaws. The two pokémon circled one another as their trainers calculated odds and predicted outcomes.

The coordinator clenched his jaw. "Vivillon, let's finish this brute. Sleep Powder!"

"It's not going to be that easy," Ash called. "Oblivion, stay upwind of the Vivillon!"

He watched intently as the Vivillon scattered green spores into the night sky. Caught by the wind, they blew into the jungle, the direction opposite Oblivion. The Vivillon glowed a telltale psychic blue with frustration. It flew past Oblivion and turned its back to the sea breeze to release the Sleep Powder again, but by the time the spores sprinkled the sky, the Type: Null had circled the Vivillon and was once more upwind.

It was not a dance the Vivillon would win, though Ash welcomed it to try. The Vivillon was on a timer, whether or not its trainer was aware of it. He raised a finger to the wind to check the temperature. Started counting the time between wingbeats. _One one thousand, two one thousand …_

"Forget about that! Pin it with Psychic!"

The Vivillon's eyes lit whitish-blue, casting the grasses beneath in an eerie, bone-like pallor. Ash frowned. He needed more time before Oblivion could afford a pummeling by the psychic attack. "Use Pursuit, but stay where you are! Don't let up!"

Black sparks crackled over the Type: Null's muscles as he cloaked his body with the dark-type move. With some relief, Ash noted that he didn't seem to have trouble maintaining it longer than the handful of seconds they had attempted in practice that day. He diverted his attention to the Vivillon. The blue glow in its eyes flickered as it sought to psychically seize the Type: Null but found itself thwarted by the dark cloak. A pokémon with stronger psychic capabilities would be able to pierce the shaky defense. But the Vivillon had not been trained in that mental discipline – it looked as if it was barely able to control the basics of the move itself – and Ash intended to exploit every gap in its offense until it was time to begin an offensive of his own.

_One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand …_

The coordinator scowled at him. "Quit deflecting like a coward and fight already."

"Do you really find it cowardly? Based on the contests I've watched, nullifying an opponent's attack deducts a major chunk of their points." He cocked his head. "Maybe learn to attack better."

The coordinator sputtered before narrowing his eyes. "Vivillon, let's quit toying with them. Blast the pokémon with Gust until it's down!"

The Vivillon fluttered through the sky until it was above Oblivion, glowing eyes flickering with rage. Despite himself, Ash was impressed by its stamina. It could cast a surprising variety of attacks even battling the night wind.

The Vivillon gathered itself and thrust its wings against the wind. Blades of air cracked and whistled through the sky, crushing into Oblivion's ribs. The Type: Null howled in pain. Ash grimaced, hoping the pokémon would be able to gather his wits in time to watch the trajectory of the next attack and dodge it. It was a losing strategy – the Vivillon would be capable of firing off Gusts for longer than Oblivion had the speed to dodge – but it was all they had left. Almost.

Oblivion skidded from the next attack as clumps of sod were torn from the earth at his heels. The Vivillon paused. Ash watched its wingbeats as it gathered strength for the next assault. _One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand_ … Good. He wondered if the Vivillon was lower in the sky or if it was just his imagination.

The wind sputtered. Died.

Ash cursed as the speargrass unbent itself. He had been counting on the wind to deflect the Vivillon's spore-based attacks. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, leaving his hands shaking from the force of it. These next few minutes would be everything. "Run!" he shouted. "Get away from the Vivillon!"

The coordinator's voice rose in excitement. "Now we can finish this! Sleep Powder!"

Oblivion hurtled beyond the new spore plume and past the trainers. The Vivillon sought him. He plunged through the speargrasses. The coordinator's surprised shout was tinny as they streaked past, blood roaring in Ash's ears. Burst of spores trailed them. A wake of green snares hanging in the air.

Around and around and through the night they raced. Oblivion's eyes were white as he streaked past Ash again. His breath came out in heavy huffs. The Vivillon redoubled its flight speed, sinking lower and lower in the sky. Ash's fingernails dug into his palms.

The Vivillon couldn't have much longer. Not with what he knew. But every moment felt stretched into eternity as his starter ducked and dodged.

Then the breeze stirred – but this time it did not falter. He turned to face the returning wind as its momentum built. Whispers rose from the grasses as it rushed over the dark plain. He tipped his head back while the wind cut through his vest and laughed.

Caught by the strength of the wind, the Vivillon was dragged for several meters before it began to struggle against it. The stream of cold air danced around the Vivillon, ripping its fangs into the bulged veins of the pokémon's wings. The Vivillon flapped furiously to break free from the current, catching the full blast of numbing cold against its wings. It twitched. Its movements grew more sluggish. Then –

_One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand, five one thousand!_

Muscles spasmed. Wings no longer worked. A strangled curse from the coordinator pierced the night.

Plummeting from the sky, a dark meteor against the Milky Way, the Vivillon crashed to the earth.

Oblivion had tracked the Vivillon's descent and bounded forward to overtake it. He was already there when the Vivillon slammed into the dirt. The Type: Null loomed, gleaming claws and feral intent. He raised a claw to slice the Vivillon. The Vivillon rolled onto its side but couldn't get its wings to work. It couldn't even crawl. Its small hands scrabbled against the hard earth like spiders on ice. It couldn't move quickly enough.

"Sleep Powder! Point blank!"

Ash's fists clenched. They were so _close_. "Fight through it!"

The Vivillon emitted a sickly green cloud of spores, engulfing the Type: Null. Oblivion staggered for a second but pinned the Vivillon down with a claw. Pink scales burst in a thousand directions as he shredded its wings to ribbons.

The Type: Null dug his teeth into the frail, naked bug.

"Enough!"

The frightened voice of the coordinator echoed in the night. He rushed forward and snatched up the Vivillon, clutching it against his chest. Leveled a glare at Ash. "You'll be the one surprised next time, brute."

May snickered. "Oh, are you going to introduce yourself next time instead of leering in the bushes? Because that _would_ be a surprise."

_If there's a next time, Oblivion will know some ranged moves and it will actually be a fair fight,_ Ash thought. But the coordinator had vanished back into the ferns.

Brendan raised an eyebrow at the ferns as rustles receded into the distance. "You know, we should have considered this before we let him battle you, but we would've been stuck with him for the night if he hadn't run off. Bad trainer etiquette to boot him into the wilderness with a crippled pokémon."

"He has another one – it's not like he'll die to the first Mightyena that sniffs him out. Besides, having to treat his Vivillon until its wings grow back should teach him a lesson about being a jerk." May huffed. But her eyes flickered up at Ash and she smiled. "Thank you for winning that. I would have had a terrible night if me or Brendan had battled him instead."

Ash rubbed the back of his neck. "Anytime. You don't have to ask me twice to battle."

"With any luck, May, the rest of your rivals will have a better attitude," Brendan said.

"I really hope so."

Ash let the conversation drift away from him as he knelt by Oblivion and rubbed the ruff of fur on his back. Oblivion rumbled approvingly. As Ash's fingers raked through the fur, he caught a stray green spore.

_Fight through it_ , he had shouted, and Oblivion had. The effects of the Sleep Powder never even hit. His gaze drifted to the metal-wrought mask bolted to his starter's skull. Spore-based attacks only worked if they could enter a pokémon's bloodstream, usually the mouth or nose. Was it possible that the mask shielded Oblivion well enough from spores to make him effectively immune to those attacks?

If true, it would be a useful trick in future battles. Ash glanced over at Brendan and the Treecko clambering on his shoulder. Promised himself to investigate when he was on his own.

"That was awesome work out there," he said, still scratching his starter's back.

Oblivion, wagging his tail-fin from his spot on the ground, suddenly sprang forward and bowled Ash over, gleefully drunk on victory. He chuffed in amusement at the stunned expression on his trainer's face as Ash thudded to the earth.

"Augh!" Ash spat grass from his mouth, sprawled beneath Oblivion. Mischief glinted in the Type: Null's eyes – a bright pink tongue emerged from the mask to coat Ash's face in slobber. "You'll pay for that, you oversized furball!" He launched himself at a spoke protruding from the Type: Null's mask, wrapping his arms around the shaft of metal to dangle off it. Laughed as Oblivion swung his head around to shake him off. Their wild howls filled the campsite.

Out in the night, Mightyena howled with them, a ghostly threnody rising through the black jungle to echo against the heavens. Far beyond, the million tiny lights of Petalburg glimmered in the dark, beckoning.

~O~

Brendan's hand on his shoulder woke Ash from a vivid, fanciful dream. For a second, he wondered where he was and why he was no longer battling Lance in a 6-0 curb-stomp. Then he remembered.

"Your turn to take watch, man," Brendan whispered.

Ash rose, stretched, and groaned at the ache in his side from a pebble that had pressed into him through the blankets. Sleeping outdoors would take some getting used to. He blinked at Brendan through the grey shadows and blinked again when he saw a second pokéball clipped to the trainer's belt.

"Where did that come from?" he said blearily.

Brendan's lips twitched. "My watch was boring – if the Mightyena packs are hunting tonight they're not interested in us – so I was counting lily pads to keep myself awake. Thought I was drifting off when I saw one swimming around, but it turns out a pokémon was right in front of us all along." He patted the pokéball on his belt. "Caught myself a Lotad."

"One step closer to being a grass-type master, huh?" Ash clapped him on the back and used the movement to push himself to his feet. "Congratulations."

"You'd better step up your game and make a permanent capture of your own soon, man; you can't expect me to be the only one out here doing Littleroot proud."

"Oh, don't worry," Ash said. "The days when Littleroot is associated with the name 'Birch' and not 'Ketchum' will be over sooner than you think."

The two trainers shared a grin.

A long-suffering voice came from the sleeping bag that covered May. "It's charming how you guys are so excited about being trainers I can even hear it through my dreams," she said. "Now will you please shut up and let me sleep?"

"Sorry, May," Brendan said. He crawled into his own sleeping bag. Gave Ash a thumbs-up. "You've got a few hours until dawn. If I were you I'd just get started with the day."

Ash nodded and waited until Brendan had settled in to flip open his pokédex. His eyes watered at the bright screen. Thanks to a transmission cable in the Oldale Pokémon Center, Professor Oak's data on the Type: Null species had been uploaded into his pokédex. Now he scrolled through it, searching for both ranged attacks and moves that would help him against the upcoming gym leaders.

His options were disappointingly sparse. Most normal-types were capable of learning a wide variety of moves, but Oblivion was limited, for the most part, to moves of his own type. He scrolled through the rest of the data, hoping for some indication that these moves were only Oak's conservative conclusions, and his eyebrow rose when he read that "evolutionary power" was likely the only safe way to remove the Type: Null's mask. So Oblivion had an evolution then? He glanced over at the slumbering shadow on the other side of the camp and wondered what Oblivion would look like without his mask.

He decided on a move from the list before snapping his pokédex shut. Dug through his backpack and changed into a clean set of clothes. He could feel the grime and sweat on him from yesterday, and as he shrugged on his vest, made a mental note to capture the first water-type pokémon that interested him. Traveling on the road for months at a time would be more bearable if he had a way of showering. Now that he considered it, an electric-type would be practical as well if he didn't want his pokédex to run out of charge after a week.

It took almost a quarter of an hour for him to rouse Oblivion from his slumber. The Type: Null had grumbled and belly-crawled away from Ash's insistent pokes and pleas; only after Ash had followed the Type: Null in circles while he belly-crawled around the campsite, did Oblivion – perhaps realizing how undignified the entire tableau was – drag himself to his feet.

"Good morning, Oblivion!" Ash said cheerily, trying not to laugh at his starter's bedraggled fur and sulky slouch. "Since we're _such_ good buddies, I thought you'd want to spend some quality time training with me as early as we possibly could! Ready for some running drills?"

Oblivion glowered at him. He looked like he wanted to tear more than just the coordinator's Vivillon to shreds.

Ash held up his hands. "Okay, okay, I was just kidding! We'll save the running drills until after breakfast. I was actually hoping we could lay the foundations for a new move."

Oblivion tilted his head at this, and Ash grinned at his starter's curiosity. "There's one in particular that would be helpful right now, and with enough practice I think you could master it and maybe one more move before we have our first gym match," he continued. "Thunder Wave. It's a ranged attack capable of knocking most fliers out of the sky."

There was a wicked gleam in Oblivion's eyes, which would have alarmed Ash under different circumstances. The Type: Null gently head-butted him as if to say, _Get on with it. What do I need to do?_

"For Thunder Wave you need to trigger the electrocytes in your –" He stopped at Oblivion's blank expression. "Sorry. I forgot I was the only one here that suffered through Oak's biology classes. Basically, channeling a variety of different elements should be instinctive to you as a normal-type. It's said electricity is the best element to learn first because small electric currents run through almost every creature, including humans; you just need to sense that flow and tap into it. Try meditating until you've found that inner sense."

Oblivion growled in assent and settled down in the grass, closing his eyes. Ash walked a few paces away so he wouldn't distract him.

"Oh, and Oblivion?" he said. "Don't think I won't notice if you fall asleep. You snore. Loudly."

The Type: Null cracked one eye and gave him a withering glance.

Ash snorted. "I know you were thinking about it."

They trained until dawn. Oblivion spent roughly half that time in deep meditation while Ash, for his part, used his pokédex to research the practical components of Thunder Wave. It seemed the trying component of learning the attack was not in producing the electricity itself, since Thunder Wave didn't require much of it, but in attuning the charge so it temporarily seized up opponents' muscles. That could only be perfected through trial and error. Aiming the bolt at moving targets was also said to be tricky for pokémon inexperienced with ranged attacks.

True to Ash's findings, Oblivion was able to produce small zaps of electricity by the time May and Brendan were awake and cooking breakfast. It was a minor step, but Ash still whooped with glee. Oblivion puffed himself up in pride, his electrified fur in wild clumps, before an amused comment from May had him balking at his reflection in the pond, then bolting into the ferns to lick his fur back into place. But when he reemerged for breakfast, he nevertheless looked pleased with himself.

The trainers continued their hike at a steady pace. It was their last day traveling together – though May had invited them to stay at her house in Petalburg – and their joking conversation felt bittersweet. Ash toyed with the Swablu's pokéball while he devised new training regimens, not daring to imagine what it would be like to have the little bird on his team. Wandering trainers challenged them, and Ash battled with a few that were undeterred by Oblivion's looming presence. The bulk of the battles were fought against Zigzagoon and Poochyena; Oblivion, he discovered, relished the chances to charge at the tiny canines. Ash had yet to lose, but no serious trainer would linger in the sleepy grasslands this early in the season, not when they were raring to build their teams. May and Brendan fared equally well in their own matches.

In the late evening, as the shadows crawled out from the jungle to cast the trainers' faces in shadow, Ash whistled for Oblivion to return to his side. The Type: Null agreed to return to his pokéball with a tired yawn, which Ash thought was for the best. He could see Petalburg many miles in the distance – its cobblestone walls soaring against the horizon, backlit by the orange wash of the setting sun, with the dark green shadows of palm trees peeking over.

Ash had often thought Vermilion was the ideal port city, cruise liners and warships and submarines all berthed at its state-of-the-art wharf, with tiny yachts sliding between them. Polymer hulls had gleamed bright, and standing on the wharf before boarding the _S.S. Cactus_ , he had caught glimpses of hundreds of high white sails slipping past like Wingull. Vermilion had been beautiful in a sleek, bombastic way; nothing like Petalburg's rustic watchtowers and creep of jungle vine over its walls. Yet watching the orange-streaked clouds billow above the seaside city, Ash realized Petalburg had a natural beauty of its own.

He wasn't sure which city he preferred now.

Night had swallowed the sunset by the time they arrived in Petalburg. May led them down twisting cobbled streets, past blocks of pastel-painted homes and shopfronts, candles lighting their interiors with a cheery flicker. They came to a square, the red-roofed Pokémon Center near gobbled up by the crowded nighttime restaurants, filling the square with the murmur of patrons and clink of glasses.

"My house is further down the street, but we should get the Swablu checked out," May said.

Ash nodded. "She doesn't have long until the last Swablu flocks have left Hoenn. If she's going to catch up to her own flock, she'll probably need to fly with one of them come tomorrow." He had been watching the skies since dawn; by his estimates he had seen only half the number of birds there'd been in days prior. Tomorrow there would be still fewer.

"I hope Nurse Joy delivers good news," Brendan said. "But not all of us need to be there. I'll go on ahead and let the Maple family know we've arrived safely."

Ash and May bid him farewell before dropping off the Swablu's pokéball with the Pokémon Center Wigglytuff. The Wigglytuff mimed to them that there would be a wait until Nurse Joy could give a prognosis, and that it would fetch them when it was time. Until then they were free to wander.

There were two pedestaled statues in the center of the square, a bronze-tinted man solemnly watching the night and an Absol that stood by his side. Ash and May settled on a bench beneath the statues and joined them in watching people stroll past. The night was dark, but the people were vibrant; Ash was mesmerized by the colorful kimona and sarong and yukata of the milling crowds. A man flared a cigarette on the next closest bench, and May coughed in the trailing smoke plume.

"Do you like it here?" Ash asked once her coughing had subsided. He couldn't imagine living in a constant colorful throng of people, hearing the pulse of reggae and drunken shouting instead of just the _ji_ - _ji_ - _ji_ of forest insects punctuating the night.

May shrugged. "Petalburg is ... pretty, I guess, but I don't really have friends here."

"There's Wally," Ash said. He frowned and looked over at May. She had drawn her knees up against her chest. Throughout the day, strands of nut brown hair had loosened themselves beneath her bandanna, and now they cascaded down to curtain her face.

"Wally hardly counts for much. I don't mean that in a bad way; it's just, he's always seemed content to be on his own," May said. "When you have a smothering family, I guess you become afraid that even the most well-meaning people will hold you back. I doubt he stuck around to wait for us."

"Oh." Ash watched a man walk into the Pokémon Center, a Magnezone floating behind him. "What about your family?"

May frowned. "What about them?"

"I know it sounds lame, but I wouldn't count them out. I think of my mom as a friend."

"I _especially_ don't know my family." May sighed. "But I don't suppose any of this matters. We're trainers now. With any luck, I can leave this city in the dust."

Ash knitted his brows at that. He was about to press her for details when the Wigglytuff waddled over and pointed to the Pokémon Center. Nurse Joy had finished her examination.

He sucked in a breath. He wasn't sure which news – that the Swablu was too injured to migrate or had made a full recovery – he dreaded the most.

The Pokémon Center was decorated with Starfall Festival cards, strung from the ceiling and lining the lobby walls. Judging by the heavy usage of crayon, Ash presumed the cards were made by the local primary schools. The lobby itself was crowded with trainers, but Ash heard Nurse Joy calling his name and pushed himself to the front. May followed behind him.

"Ash Ketchum?" The pink-skirted nurse blinked as he stumbled though the crowd to arrive at the front desk. "I've completed an examination of your Swablu. I can return her to you provided you have your League registration card."

Ash fished the registration card out of his pocket and handed it to Nurse Joy. "How is she?" he blurted, unwilling to wait any longer.

"Oh, she's perfectly fine!" Nurse Joy smiled. "Pokémon regenerative capabilities and modern medicine mean we can fix near everything, even your Swablu's broken bones. But it's always sweet to see new trainers worry."

Ash's throat dried, and suddenly he couldn't speak. He stared down at his feet as the world blurred around him. He knew he wanted to keep his first capture as a trainer, but he hadn't realized how much it hurt to feel that chance dwindle away.

He was grateful May stepped forward and spoke to the nurse. "Thank you. Could we get his Swablu's pokéball back, please?"

They reclaimed the pokéball and retreated to one of the futons lining the lobby wall. Ash numbly stared at the eclectic collection of trainers in the Center. Women in bikinis chattered near the entrance to the cafeteria, hair still dripping and towels wrapped around their waists. Twin teenage boys brushed the fur of matching Kadabra, while a girl rushed her Seadra to the front desk. A blond-haired man with the pale skin of an intellectual studied Ash from across the room.

Ash met the man's pale blue eyes. He had the uneasy feeling of being dissected, cell by cell, under the man's unflinching gaze. It wasn't that the man was analyzing him as a trainer or even as a person – that Ash had experienced before. Instead, his study was clinically cold **.** If there was interest there, he concealed it well.

May put a comforting hand to his shoulder, and Ash turned away from the man. He had more pressing concerns than the stare of a weirdo.

"What are you going to do, Ash?" May asked.

He curled his fingers around the Swablu's pokéball. "Let's just get this over with."

Ash was about to trigger the release mechanism when May pulled his hand away. "Wait," she said. "Promise me you'll invite the Swablu to join your team before you release her. You'll always regret it if you don't."

He sighed. "I'll try."

The Swablu appeared on the futon between them in a bright flash, her blue plumage radiant. She chirped at Ash in delighted recognition. Flapping into his lap, she chirped once more as she stretched her wings free of pain. Ash stroked her feathers. He was surprised he felt no scarring underneath the soft down.

May giggled. "Look who's happy to see you again."

Ash swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm glad you're feeling better, little Swablu. But ... listen, I have a question to ask you."

The Swablu tilted her head.

"Nurse Joy gave you a clean bill of health. I know that means you can migrate north and rejoin your flock, but you'd also be a great fit on my team. I was wondering if you'd like to stay with me."

The Swablu twitched. She looked at the ground and pulled at her feathers anxiously.

"Your Swablu was banished from her flock."

Ash flinched at cold voice. He looked up from the Swablu in his lap and realized that the blond man from earlier had somehow crept up on them. The last he checked the man was across the room; now, he was looming over them.

"Excuse me, but how would you know that?" May said, her eyes narrowed.

The man stared at her intently, as if he was studying an insect under a magnifying glass; intrigued, yet also repulsed. Ash had the urge to snap at him, to force him to see _them_ instead of simply evaluating him and May as pieces of misplaced trash. But instead he bit back the heated words.

"My Beheeyem read her thoughts." The man crooked his finger, and a bizarre pokémon floated forward. It was humanoid, but the proportions were all wrong. A massive, oblong head was supported by a floating stalk. Three fingers on each appendage flashed repeating patterns of red-green-yellow. "It tells me the Swablu disagreed with the Altaria that led the flock, something pertaining to flying into a dangerous storm. The Altaria wished to depict the cost of insubordination to its followers and thus made an example of your Swablu."

Ash recalled the little bird's cuts and gashes, her blood-stained feathers. He petted the Swablu's head with his thumb. "Is that true?" he asked softly. "Was that Altaria the one that hurt you?"

The Swablu buried her face in his t-shirt and nodded.

Ash just kept petting the Swablu. His thoughts were a jumbled whirl. The Swablu couldn't go back to her flock. The man was probably reading his mind. The Swablu couldn't go back to her flock.

"I'm sorry. I know this must be tough on you," Ash said. "But you've got a home with me if you want it."

The Swablu nodded again.

It took all of Ash's willpower to fight off a grin. He knew he shouldn't feel so elated, not when he had learned his newest team member had lost her family forever. His lips twitched anyway. _You're a terrible person._

"Welcome to the team," he said.

May smiled at the little bird. "You'll do great with Ash, I promise. He really cares for his pokémon," she said. "I'm sorry you'll have to deal with his starter, though. He's just a butt."

"Hey! Don't talk about Oblivion that way!"

May laughed. "You're not saying I'm wrong."

But the blond man watched them, expressionless, and under his intent gaze their laughter died. Something about the man reminded Ash of Professor Oak. Even though his blue eyes were like pools of chemical acid and his face was pasty pale, there was an air of authority to him. It was magnetizing.

Ash drew the Swablu tight against his chest. "Not that we're ungrateful for your assistance, but is there an actual reason you're speaking with us?" he asked.

The man pursed his lips. "Indeed. I've been sent to investigate the disappearance of a special pokémon, and I heard rumor it was last seen in Petalburg. Are you perhaps locals?"

"Ash isn't, but I am," May said slowly. She gave Ash a look. "What kind of pokémon are you searching for?"

"It is known as Type: Null."

Ash froze. He became intensely aware of the Beheeyem's glowing fingers. _Don't think, don't think, don't think!_ Blood roared in his ears.

"Funny name," May said brightly, but Ash saw she clasped her hands behind her back to hide their shaking. She scrunched up her face in thought. "Nope! Doesn't ring a bell."

"I see." The man considered them both. "In that case, I apologize for taking up your time. But allow me to offer some parting advice: avoid Mt. Chimney. Seismic activity has increased as of late; I hear scientists predict it may soon erupt."

Ash swallowed. "You're telling the truth?"

The pale, strange man smiled humorlessly. "At least as much truth as you've told me." He crooked a finger to his Beheeyem, and they slipped out the Pokémon Center, leaving the trainers alone with the pounding of their hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> There are some parts of this chapter I like, and some parts I really don't. But I realize now why so many stories set in Hoenn sputter and die in the beginning – you need to write three entire settlements before you even get to the first major bit of wilderness, or the first gym for that matter. It's brutal.
> 
> I feel much better about the upcoming chapters, since they'll for the most part explore a single place instead of trying to cram five uneventful places (settlements + routes) into a chapter. I hope overall you liked this one though.


	3. Lessons of the Wild

The sun rose over the rim of the earth, dawning across Petalburg. It cast its light on the trade ships docked at the harbor and the four spiking towers of the city gym, relieving both sailors on night watch and the tower guards keeping vigil over the city. It ignited the gold-plated roof of the mansion where the local magistrate lived aloof with his servants, and it stirred chanting from the world shaper shrine where monks prayed twenty-four seven to defer the end times. The ocean turned from blood red to glittering blue as the sun rose higher, scorching the city.

The sun hit a crowded street and trickled sweat down Ash's temple. Sweat jewels splattered onto the Swablu perched on his wrist; she drooped but otherwise had given up drying her feathers. Not even noon and they were already seared and sticky – Ash briefly wished he was back in temperate Kanto. Sighing in the humid heat, he tugged at the t-shirt stuck to his skin and continued his talk with a street seller.

"No, I'm not interested in razz berries," Ash shook his head and indicated the pyramids of berries stacked behind the street seller. "I'd like to see those, back there. The berries with the green skin."

The street seller frowned, wrinkles bunching her face. "Micle berries?" She pointed at a small pyramid near swallowed by surrounding stacks of oran berries.

"Yeah." Ash flashed a grateful smile as the woman passed over a sample. "Are they new?"

She nodded.

Ash held up the berry, eying it. It reminded him of a lime, deep green with bumpy skin. Budded leaves were still attached to the stem. He sniffed it.

"It's safe," the street seller said. "Greenhouse grown, but its genetics are nothing outside the Rivière Protocol."

Ash hummed in absent agreement. Around him, the market jostled with Petalburg's morning shoppers. Heaps of coconuts filled the street in haphazard pyramids, and woks flamed as sellers splashed glass noodles into hot oil. Sagging tarps shaded the street stalls with painted advertisements and the peeling face of the former champion. A man hustled past, dragging a golden Mareep as it bleated in protest, weaving its leash around the legs of disgruntled shoppers; women carrying sun parasols quarreled with a nearby street seller over the price of Overgrow-harvested rice.

Ash did his best to ignore the headache-inducing commotion and think over his options.

The berry was cool in his palm. Another feat of genetic engineering by Lysandre Labs, just like the bulk of the berries hawked in the market. Decades ago, biologists had discovered that crops cultivated by grass-types were supercharged with nutrients beneficial to pokémon maturation; the genetic engineering of berries began not long after as corporations pressured their grass-type pokémon to produce new and even more nutrient-rich varieties they could turn for a profit. Corporate dynasties rose and fell, but trainers remained devoted to ensuring the peak condition of their pokémon, and soon engineered berries were sold worldwide. Lysandre Labs had emerged as the frontrunner in the market.

Ash wondered which berries would best aid his team's development. The Petalburg market, from what he could tell, was limited to medicinal berries, rather than developmental ones. Oran, sitrus, and pecha varieties were useful, but potions were far more potent and – thanks to the discount he received from being a licensed trainer – almost as cheap.

He looked up at the street seller. "What's this one do?"

"Micle? They're dense with cholinergics and other compounds meant to aid the development of motor control. Excellent for trainers teaching their pokémon long-range attacks." The street seller saw him start, then beamed, sure of a sale. "Lysandre Labs recommends one berry a day to supplement a pokémon's normal diet. But buy a month's supply! Less and they won't make a difference."

Ash thought for a moment. "Double that, please. I have two pokémon."

Minutes later Ash was squeezing through the crowd, a shopping bag in one hand and his Swablu perched on the other. Her small talons hurt, but worse was her tendency to sink them into his skin whenever she was spooked – he winced as he remembered her attempt to perch on his shoulder last night. He had since asked her to stay on his hand, where his fingerless gloves afforded some protection, if he wasn't wearing his bone-plated vest.

He glanced down at the Swablu, who was looking at the hundreds of people thronging around them with wide eyes. Tried to remember the nickname she had agreed on last night as he was drifting off to sleep. Cirrus? He thought that was it – though he had the uneasy sense that she wouldn't correct him if he was wrong.

"Not used to people, huh?" he said.

Cirrus shuddered in response.

The two had spent the morning stocking up for the journey through Petalburg Woods. Now, Ash wound through the street market sea, jostled by its current into the boulevard beyond. The clangor of traffic greeted him, beach-goers and commuters choking the great boulevard. Pedestrians and bicycles, tusky grey Donphan and huge lumbering Tropius.

Ash groaned at the traffic-filled walk ahead of him. But to his surprise, it was an adventure – around every corner he spotted strange pokémon he'd never seen before. He was constantly firing up his pokédex, and had just identified a Plusle when he turned the corner onto May's street.

Old, colonial-style beachhouses stood before him. The clangor of Petalburg's commercial heart had faded as he approached the ocean, and now it was washed over by the whisper of waves. He passed rows of verandas, lush gardens with the sweet scent of hibiscus, and cherry blossom trees bordering wide balconies. Ash wondered at the wealth displayed before him. Wondered at the idea of defeating May's dad, whose skill on the battlefield granted him access to such wealth. It was both awe-inducing and terrifying.

He came up on a three-story house, olive green and guarded by Kangaskhan statues. The door creaked open and a Torchic scurried out, hopping up and down to welcome him. Ash waved at May, who was standing at the doorway.

"Morning, Ash! You're just in time for breakfast," May said. She was still dressed in her pajamas, midway through brushing dark tangles out of her hair.

Ash set his bag on the veranda and let her usher him inside. "Has Brendan woken up yet? Your family?"

He had arrived with May too late last night to be introduced – the house was dark and silent by the time they let themselves in. He was excited at the prospect of meeting a gym leader face-to-face. Every time he'd accompanied his mom on shopping trips to Viridian, he'd craned his neck in the crowds looking for Giovanni, but never had any luck.

May nodded. "We're all awake. My mom and brother are setting the table in the back garden, and Brendan's playing with his Lotad in the tub upstairs. My dad left for his gym before dawn. I don't think even you were up early enough to catch him."

Ash hid a pang of disappointment. "I expected as much," he managed. "You buy your ticket to Dewford yet?"

"Mm-hmm. The ferry leaves tomorrow." She glanced at him shyly. "Are you still set on leaving for Rustboro today? I'd love the company if you want to come along."

He shook his head. "Sand and saltwater aren't a good idea if I want to get my team trained up. I'm … distractible."

"The rainforest also has distractions, you know, just of the thunderstorms and savage Vigoroth kind." May wrinkled her nose. "I didn't realize I had befriended a lunatic until you told me you were even _considering_ traveling through Petalburg Woods."

"Hold on, you'll call me out for that but give Brendan a pass? He's the real lunatic – I'm not the guy who refers to his suntanning as 'photosynthesis.'" Ash said.

May laughed, and she was about to speak again when a holler rang through the house. "Breakfast time! May, get all your friends out here! And don't forget Dunce!"

"That'd be my mom." May rolled her eyes. "She wants me to fetch the family Dunsparce … but um," – she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and fidgeted – "I don't know if we'll have a chance to talk alone again, so I just want to say it was nice to get to know you. Maybe we'll run into each other on our journeys."

"Maybe we will," Ash said.

May hesitated, watching him as if she was waiting for something, until the silence started to stretch. Then she gave Ash a small smile and said quietly, "All right."

She turned away, and with her departure Ash was reminded of how _alone_ he had been back in Pallet, when Gary was his only friend in the world; of the other kids ignoring him in their games of tag because of his friendship with the village bully; of his dreams of one day having pokémon of his own so he'd never feel isolated again.

Why limit his new friendships to pokémon?

"I'd like that," Ash called out. "If we did run into each other again."

May turned back to him, her bright blue eyes meeting his own. They smiled at each other, and though Ash was certain he looked foolish, he couldn't find it in himself to care.

~O~

Ash drifted through the Maple family home en route to the garden, peering down hallways and gawking at the collection of ancient katana that adorned the walls. It seemed Norman had a fascination with the samurai of his homeland. He was curious at the Imperial household, curious to see if the people of Johto really did hang up maps of the world with three continents marked as the Imperium's territory. Everyone in Kanto swore it was true.

Cirrus, as a former wild pokémon, had never been in a human household let alone an Imperial one. She was perturbed by the katana but reacted to other items she spotted much worse – such as the clothes iron and oven – requiring reassurance from Ash that they weren't the tools of torture she imagined. The Swablu listened to his words without burrowing into his t-shirt, but her talons remained tightened around his wrist.

Ash didn't find the rumored map, but he did stop for a moment to stare at a photo of a man – May's dad? – shaking hands with Champion Lance. Reminded himself to ask May later if she'd met any of his idols. Her father was the former gym leader for Olivine City, so there was a decent chance she knew most of the Silver League.

_Too bad Dad was never successful. I'm the only nobody in this house._

He winced at the thought. It was unfair. May didn't deserve jealousy as thanks for her hospitality, and his dad … he had tried. That didn't make the truth less hurtful, but Ash told himself it was enough.

It had to be.

He was still pensive when he stepped into the house garden, eyes widening as he gazed out at the glittering expanse of the sea. The morning was much like it was at the height of Kanto summers, cirrus clouds scudding in the high blue sky as the wind swept ships through whitecaps into the Petalburg harbor. A breeze kissed him. Scents of lily and citrus drifted gently from the garden.

"It's a good view, isn't it?"

Ash nodded absently before blinking to attention. Fringed by the garden, a table was laden with strawberries and cardamom biscuits and chocolate porridge. A red-haired woman fluttered around it, adjusting silverware, but she didn't seem to have spoken to him.

"Up here! You're a bit slow on the uptake, huh?"

Ash frowned as he finally spotted a kid perched in the orange tree beside him. He was tiny – he couldn't be much older than twelve – and had a devilish grin in his bespectacled eyes. Deciding to ignore the jibe, he waved at the kid. "You must be Max, May's little brother."

"I've got to hand it to you, at least you can put two and two together," Max said begrudgingly. He leapt down from the tree. "You must be the pity pick."

"Hey! I'm not anyone's pity pick. I don't know where you got that impression, but it's wrong." Ash crossed his arms, causing Cirrus to flinch at the unexpected movement.

Max pushed up his glasses. "It's a trivial deduction. Out of all the upcoming trainers that applied to be sponsored by Professor Birch, only Brendan and my sister passed the qualifying exam – and I should mention that my sister only passed because I helped her study. Birch always picks an applicant that has 'overcome hardship' to get the last sponsorship in situations like this, which if you ask me is stupidly sentimental, but it is his modus operandi. Therefore, because you didn't pass the exam but still have Birch's sponsorship, you must be the pity pick."

Ash stared at him for a heartbeat before bursting into laughter. He'd been bracing himself for something with a sliver of truth. "Clever kid," he said, ruffling Max's hair. "But I think you forgot something."

"I didn't forget anything." Max scowled at him and ducked away from Ash's hand. "Stop ruffling my hair like I'm a baby! Let out your pokémon and let's go eat already."

"What if I didn't take Professor Birch's qualifying exam, Max?" He unclipped Oblivion's pokéball from his belt and let it quiver in his hand. He felt a little bad teasing the kid, but in fairness Max had tried it on him first.

Max froze. "You didn't take the exam? Then … that means you have a sponsorship that was transferred to Birch from another professor," he said with horror. "Of course! How could I be so stupid!"

The door to the house had opened during his deduction, and May and Brendan appeared. May carried a Dunsparce that was so comatose Ash would have thought it was dead had he not known better.

"Do I see a speechless Max before me? Maybe I can actually eat my breakfast in peace," Brendan said.

Max whipped his head around and glared at Brendan. "Maybe if you didn't pretend to know _everything_ about pokémon just because you're the professor's son, I wouldn't need to correct you all the time."

"What? Of course I know everything about pokémon. I'm the professor's son," Brendan said with a straight face. "For example, did you know that Pikachu have a special evolution they can access when they're fed enough sweet and fluffy round pancakes?"

Max let out a strangled choke. "Evolution has no correlation to pancakes whatsoever, let alone _fluffy_ pancakes, you – you imbecile! Why, if you had even bothered to read Professor Rowan's _Treatise on Evolution_ , you self-proclaimed 'pokémon expert,' you'd know –"

Ash watched the rant continue with a raised eyebrow. He noticed Brendan didn't bother to defend pancakes as a valid evolutionary method – he just stood there with a dumb grin. After a minute of Max ranting so rapidly it was garble to Ash, he caught May's eye and jerked his head towards the table. She nodded and looped around the rant. Walked with him to greet May's mom.

"Brendan's needling Max again, Mom."

May's mom sighed as she poured herself a mug of steaming coffee. "Thank you, dear, but I can hear it clear as a bell. Unfortunately." She took a long drink before her eyes widened at the sight of Ash. "Oh? You must be May's new friend."

Ash inclined his head. "I'm Ash, and this is my newest team member, Cirrus. Pleasure to meet you."

"Please call me Caroline." She smoothed her apron. "I'd hoped we could all eat together, but once Max gets going, it usually takes threats from Norman for him to stop. He doesn't listen unless his gym apprenticeship is affected."

"Gym apprenticeship?" Ash frowned. He knew that gym leaders tended to train their successors, but to start so early? Max couldn't even train pokémon legally yet. And then there was May. "Isn't it Imperial tradition for familial gyms to be passed to the oldest child?"

May gave him a tight-lipped smile. "My dad believes in merit more than tradition."

_Oh._ He didn't know what to say.

Caroline saved him. "Why don't you two go feed your pokémon? I cooked some chow for them. Ash, I wasn't sure what to make for your starter based on May's description of him, but I thought he might like a favorite of my husband's Linoone."

With that, she turned from them and put her hands on her hips. "Max! Cut it out right this second or so help me I will drag you to your father and get you to explain what you did wrong in front of all his gym trainers! And don't look so smug, Brendan! You'll be helping me with the dishes when this is over!"

Ash grinned and was about to make a joking comment to May when he realized she was hunched at the table, feeding her Torchic a biscuit and avoiding eye contact.

He looked down at Dunce on the chair beside him. "Is she okay?" he asked.

The Dunsparce stared at him.

"… Right. Don't know what I was expecting there."

He shook off a faint sense of apprehension and tossed Oblivion's pokéball into the sky, grinning as his starter coalesced before him. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to the thrill that raced through him from releasing his pokémon.

The Type: Null glanced at his surroundings, then growled upon sighting the Swablu perched on Ash's wrist. Ash had introduced him to Cirrus earlier, but so far Oblivion had only snarled and snapped at his new teammate.

"Sorry you couldn't come along to the street markets today," Ash said. "But I told you about the man we ran into last night. It's not wise for you to appear too much in public as long as we're in Petalburg."

Oblivion huffed. He stalked over to the table and picked up a basket of cardamom biscuits with his mouth, disappearing into the jasmine bushes with them.

"Hey! _I'm_ going to be the one that has to answer to Caroline for that!"

A snort of derision came from the bushes.

Ash pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's not always like this, Cirrus, I promise." He rummaged through his pockets and offered her a micle berry. "Here. Why don't you eat this and find the food Caroline set out for you? I'm going to talk with Oblivion for a minute."

Cirrus took the berry with her beak and fluttered off to the table, where Ash could see May give her family a watery smile as they settled in to eat. He hoped the Swablu wouldn't be frightened by the breakfast commotion. She had a tendency to flinch whenever he moved unexpectedly, as if she was expecting to be hit.

_We have a lot of work ahead of us before we're ready for the first gym._

He sighed. Shoved through the jasmine bushes and cursed at the twigs tangling in his hair. He emerged into a glade shaded by bamboo, their stalks rustling in the breeze. Under the swaying shadows, Oblivion huddled.

"Oblivion?"

The Type: Null watched him warily. The fur on his back stood on end as he growled at his trainer. Tossed into the bamboo behind him was the stolen basket, uneaten biscuits scattered on the leaf-littered soil.

"C'mon, Oblivion, we're missing breakfast," Ash said. "I don't know what's gotten you into this mood, but surely we can work it out later?"

Oblivion's eyes flashed beneath the darkness of his mask. His fur bristled.

"Guess not." Ash exhaled. He hadn't seen the Type: Null like this since their last night on the _S.S. Cactus_. It was a discomfiting reminder that unlike May with her Torchic or Brendan with his Treecko, his relationship with Oblivion struggled beneath the weight of secrets left unspoken. He had admitted to himself that it bothered him – he longed for the day Oblivion trusted him unconditionally – but trust took time. His only choice was to be the best trainer he could for the Type: Null until the day he was ready to be questioned about his origins.

If Ash was honest, he wasn't yet ready to confess his full history to his team either. He didn't have secrets, but he knew that vocalizing old hurts tested how truly they had bled dry.

He took another step into the glade. "This isn't about having to stay in your pokéball while we're in Petalburg, is it?"

Oblivion kept growling.

"Are you upset that Cirrus joined the team?"

Deeper growls, and the hiss of leaves in the breeze. Oblivion's green eyes flickered between Ash and their surroundings, the swaying bamboo and the shriek of a Wingull overhead. His muscles were tense. Ash had the feeling that if a shadow shifted the wrong way, the Type: Null would strike in a whirlwind of claws and fangs.

He would have laughed were the circumstances less unsettling. Oblivion, who couldn't be caged by less than twelve men, who shredded steel through sheer determination, who terrified other rookie trainers, was twitching at shadows.

"Listen, Oblivion, I may not know what's going on in your head right now, but we're friends," Ash tried. "You can trust me."

The Type: Null swung his metal mask in fierce disagreement.

_At least he didn't growl at me this time._

Ash grimaced, thinking. He had told Oblivion about the pale man last night, the man with the Beheeyem whose fingers flashed red-green-yellow, but the Type: Null had just blinked at him blearily before falling back asleep. He had assumed that the Type: Null was unconcerned with his pursuer, but perhaps the ramifications only dawned on him this morning.

"It's the pale man, isn't it?" he said. "You're upset that he's appeared, and you … recognize him. You must."

The growls ebbed into silence. Ash heard laughter and the cry of Brendan's Treecko from beyond the jasmine bushes; their merriment felt a world away.

Oblivion regarded him from the deep shadows, green eyes glimmering beneath his mask. He shivered. Then the shiver strengthened into a shudder, and the Type: Null let out a low miserable whimper as he curled into a ball and suddenly his whole body was shuddering and the whimpers became a ceaseless whine.

Ash swallowed, his throat dry, glad the shadows hid his expression. Part of him wanted to avert his eyes, to protect Oblivion's privacy – to protect Oblivion's pride. But though he was blind, in the dark as to the history between the Type: Null and the pale man, Oblivion's troubles were no longer his own. That night in the storm, he had rescued Oblivion and against all common sense tied their fates together.

He wouldn't walk away from him now.

Ash stooped down to sit beside Oblivion, letting dark fur scratch against his arms. He reached out a hand and stroked the Type: Null's back.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Shh. No one will take you from me. We'll defeat whoever tries, you and me and Cirrus. It's okay. We're okay. Shh."

He tried to relax as he continued whispering to Oblivion, but a shiver of his own crept over him. A prickling awareness that lingered at the back of his neck.

No matter how much Ash tried to believe his words, they were blindly idealistic.

Somewhere in Petalburg, the pale man was hunting for Oblivion. Probing minds with bizarre pokémon, alerting listeners on the streets, no doubt examining the list of passengers on the ocean liner's manifest. And Ash couldn't shake the feeling that there was more at work, that the man was a single thread in a deeper conspiracy, a conspiracy faceless and untouchable.

A conspiracy that was turning its attention to him – to him and Oblivion and the tiny family he was making his own.

~O~

The air was still shimmering with heat when Ash arrived at the rainforest trailhead, the late afternoon sun blazing down on him. He was already sheened with sweat and hadn't even started the real hike. Like the hundreds of local men he'd seen on the way here, he had stripped off his soaked t-shirt and pressed through the crowds half-naked.

Sitting at the wooden table beside the trail, he dug through his backpack and wondered whether he should have gone through his checklist again before departing May's house. But he couldn't think of anything he'd forgotten, and he had significantly added to his supplies during his short time in Petalburg: two and a half weeks worth of food for himself and his team, including emergency rations; the micle berries; a tent he had brought along at Caroline's insistence; more medicinal potions than he thought he'd need; some biogel; a copy of _A Trainer's Guide to Hoenn Pokémon_ , with a note from Max on the first page that read "Don't be an idiot"; mobile numbers from May and Brendan in case he could ever afford a satellite phone; a map of Petalburg Woods; mosquito repellent; and a water purifier. The backpack itself was threadbare and worn, another hand-me-down from his father, but it ranked among his most prized possessions. Distortion-space backpacks weren't cheap.

Underneath all the new supplies, Ash located some spare pokéballs and clipped them to his belt. He didn't anticipate capturing any new pokémon in the rainforest, but he wanted to be ready in case he sighted a rare species. There was a decent chance of it from what Brendan had told him. The Vigoroth troops, which controlled extensive tracts of rainforest, rarely drove out other pokémon and humans dared to venture into it even less often. Here, a trainer greedy for new captures became the true quarry; the Vigoroth troops were merciless to human trespassers. Ash hoped he wouldn't discover that for himself.

As he reclipped the tangle of straps on his backpack, he glanced around warily. The trailhead sat back from a dirt street, behind a yard of beaten earth and banana trees. Most of the wooden tables in the yard were filled with resting trainers. A loud radio competed with the blasts of a pokémon battle between a Zigzagoon and Nincada, their trainers rattling off commands at a cadence now familiar to Ash's ears. No one seemed interested in him.

He unclipped two pokéballs from his belt and triggered their release mechanisms. Oblivion and Cirrus appeared before him, their eyes drawn to the great rainforest looming ahead; the rainforest's dark leaves stirred as it waited in hungry silence.

Ash cleared his throat. "We're standing at the edge of the Rainforest Trail. Both of you know we're heading to Rustboro, but I haven't mentioned we have weeks of travel ahead of us before we get there. I'll be blunt; we need to be smart if we want to survive this. We'll be in territory where humans are killed on sight."

Oblivion snorted at the rainforest, tossing his head in contempt. He had been there when Ash first learned what they would face in the rainforest, but he thought little of wild pokémon.

Cirrus only twitched.

"I'm serious," Ash said. He locked eyes with Oblivion. "The Rainforest Trail is a hard run, even in ideal weather conditions. More trainers die here than anywhere else on the Azure Coast."

Nights talking over the fire with Brendan and May had taught him that everywhere in Hoenn was dangerous, including the tame grasslands they traveled through on the way to Petalburg. But even locals – many of whom shrugged at living under a smoking volcano or swimming through miles of ocean – didn't dare to venture into Petalburg Woods. That was a feat left to trainers, though only the most adventurous attempted it when the Rustboro ferry was cheap and frequent.

Ash was the only one out of the former traveling companions hiking the full extent of the Rainforest Trail. Brendan intended to hunt at the edges until he had flushed out the Shroomish and Seedot he coveted, and May was bound for Dewford. Neither had wanted to spend weeks covered in mud when they could train at a Pokémon Center, nor risk the howling fury of the Vigoroth troops.

Ash had considered taking the ferry to Rustboro before he'd woken to half-remembered nightmares of a Beheeyem's pulsing fingers. If the pale man could use his pokémon to read memories, could he also rewrite them? Snatch Oblivion away and erase Ash's memories of their time together? It made him sweat, thinking about it.

His trail needed to go cold, and the pale man was likely surveilling the ferries in Petalburg harbor. Going to the police with his suspicions wasn't an option – Ash didn't want to bring their attention to the legal grey areas that surrounded his capture of the Type: Null. No, the rainforest was the only way to vanish for sure. He would rather risk the known dangers of the wilderness than the unknown dangers the pale man brought.

Ash reached out an arm to Cirrus, and she hopped onto his wrist. He petted her head, smiling when she cooed in pleasure.

"You'll be crucial to keeping us alive in there," he said. "I'd like you to scout ahead of us by air. Visibility will be limited beneath the rainforest canopy, but Vigoroth have distinctive white fur. Fly back with an Agility boost and warn me even if you see only one – or any pokémon that look like they might be trouble."

Cirrus nodded, and Ash was startled to see a flash of determination in her eyes. But he just nodded back.

He looked up at the Type: Null looming over him. "Oblivion, I need you to stay close. You'll be my last line of defense if we wind up in an ambush."

Oblivion barked an affirmative. It carried across the yard, and the other trainers paused from listening to the radio, eating fallen bananas, or watching the battle between the Zigzagoon and Nincada. They all gaped at the Type: Null, who growled at the ones that stared too long. Several raised their pokédexes.

Ash pulled the brim of his hat down low, hoping they wouldn't remember his features if the pale man probed their minds.

"Okay," he said, trying to ignore the prickle of eyes on him. "That's it as far as travel goes. But let's cover your training regimens before we get out of here. I have some drills we can do while hiking, plus some moves I'd like to get you guys started on."

Ash noticed that while Oblivion wagged his tail-fin at the mention of new ways to terrorize his opponents, Cirrus tensed. He frowned in consideration.

"Cirrus, I was thinking you could try to maintain Agility while you scout ahead. It enhances speed at the cost of being a constant drain on energy, so practicing it should improve your stamina. Are you comfortable with that?"

Cirrus nodded, relaxing. Her relieved glance at Oblivion confirmed Ash's suspicion that she was frightened of battling her teammate.

"Don't worry, mock battles won't be useful until we have a larger team," he said. "I don't want to get you accustomed to fighting an opponent that can barely strike back."

Oblivion glared at him.

"Oh please. It's true and you know it," Ash said. "Which is why I'd like you to practice Thunder Wave by attempting to zap foliage we pass on the trail. It should improve your accuracy even if the voltage isn't perfect. Just, whatever you do, don't accidentally strike me. The _last_ thing I want is to be paralyzed in the middle of Vigoroth territory."

The Type: Null looked offended at the suggestion.

Ash snorted. "Anyhow, I've incorporated two new moves into each of your regimens – it should add enough variety to keep training from becoming tedious. I estimate we'll have enough time on the trail to get them battle-ready. None are supposed to be tricky."

He fished his pokédex from his pocket and showed Cirrus a battle video of a Swablu, which he had watched to learn about her species after rescuing her from the cliffside cave. There was only a sliver of moves Swablu could learn before they progressed into advanced, difficult-to-master techniques, and the Swablu in the video was using both moves Ash wanted to teach Cirrus.

Cirrus blinked as she watched the on-screen Swablu scream shrill, pink rings at its opponent. It then plunged through the air and struck with wings that glittered like knives. She shuffled back from the screen and looked up at Ash, still dazed, blinking.

"The moves you saw are called Disarming Voice and Steel Wing," Ash said. "You need a ranged attack and coverage against rock-types for the first gym. I want you to focus on Agility today, but start reflecting on the energy channels in your body – you'll need to harness new elements for these moves to work."

He turned to Oblivion. "The move I'm adding to your arsenal is Iron Defense. It'll be a solid counter for rock-type attacks, though I want you to get Thunder Wave to the point where it's a concentrated bolt before we introduce another move. Sound good?"

Ash stood up as his starter nodded. Stared into the gloom of the rainforest. He had heard tales of history's explorers, the men and women who mapped the deep wildernesses of the earth in search of new pokémon species – and yet still danger lurked just outside Petalburg's walls. A sweltering dark tangle where Vigoroth and Swellow and lone Sceptile hunted at will. Predators all. It sent a thrill of dread down his spine.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Cirrus fluttered into the sky. Oblivion brushed against him as he prowled beside Ash, muscles rippling under his pelt. The glint in his team's eyes was all Ash needed to see.

Slinging on his backpack, he stepped towards the Rainforest Trail, his senses razor-sharp from nerves. The trainers at the tables whispered as he passed, but he didn't notice, concentrating on the rhythm of his breath and the tread of his feet. Cirrus streaked over him in a blur, scouting the red dirt trail ahead.

Soon he was hopping over roots and wading through muddy puddles, a tiny, faint shadow amongst the looming rainforest.

~O~

Ash did not anticipate the rain.

He was miles deep inside the rainforest when he heard the rumble of thunder, and seconds later fat drops of rain began to fall around him. The rain fell faster than he thought possible, a torrential deluge so heavy it pounded the blackbark trees in a relentless roar. His vest offered no protection. The rain soaked through his clothing, cold enough to make him shiver in the grey stormlight.

"Oh no. I forgot a poncho," Ash said, burying his face in his hands.

Oblivion looked just as miserable at the realization, as if he had planned to huddle under the poncho with him.

Together they stared at the Rainforest Trail. It already resembled a muddy stream more than a footpath. Lightning forked through the trees and lit the rushing water bone-white.

Gritting his teeth, Ash slogged forward, resting a hand on Oblivion to keep from slipping as mud squelched beneath his boots and water tugged at his ankles. He peered past the sheets of rain. Worried how much Cirrus's visibility had diminished. Would she be able to find him in the downpour? The shriek of Ninjask had fallen silent; it felt as if he and Oblivion trudged alone in a lifeless and shadowed world.

He concentrated on the rainforest to drown out the discomfort of his soggy socks. The trail wound under fern fronds and buttress roots, and a clinging mist swirled where he stepped. Blackbark trees towered hundreds of feet overhead, taller than the crowning skyscrapers of Saffron, their tangled branches blacking out the light. Their trunks were gargantuan too, nearly thirty feet wide, and when Ash peered upward he could see creepers and rattans hanging from them, and bright specks of sprouting parasitic orchids.

He was utterly dwarfed by his surroundings. Ferns grew taller than any man as they gathered the mist. Moss-covered roots erupted from the soil, so giant he could have sunk his hands into the spongy moss and climbed up them, but he instead threaded between the roots to remain with Oblivion. Here and there rafflesia flowers bloomed in the darkness, which Ash at first mistook for slumbering Venusaur. He tried to use his pokédex on them, but it was too dark beneath the canopy for the species scanner to get an exposure reading.

As he walked through the rainforest, Ash found himself thinking of the pokémon that lurked here and the strange nature of their lives. The Treecko in the canopy that went from birth to death without descending to the rainforest floor. The Beautifly that stabbed prey with long, tube-like mouths to suck fluids. The Shroomish that had never seen more than tiny patches of sky. It was almost enough to forget the raindrops pelting against his skin.

He was waiting for Oblivion to finish sniffing a fern when something thwacked into him with a soggy squelch. Ash staggered backward, nerves alight, while Oblivion lunged at the threat in a snarl. But it was only Cirrus, sodden and scarcely capable of flight – her cloud-like wings absorbed twice her weight in rain.

Ash offered to return the Swablu to her pokéball, but she refused, resolute in her role as team scout. She compromised at settling atop his League Expo cap and scrutinizing the distant shadows. Ash hoped she didn't like it too much up there; he knew Swablu often delighted in doubling as puffy hats.

The rain continued in a steady soak that fell with the promise of lasting the night. Ash, Oblivion, and Cirrus were all drenched and downcast, and when Ash called a halt for the day, there was no protest. He decided against a training session that evening. None of them were in the mood.

Night fell heavy on them. Shadows stretched and slithered out from the undergrowth, and by the time Ash had finished setting up his tent, it was black. The beam of his flashlight and drum of the rain on the forest canopy were the only indicators the world hadn't been swallowed around him.

Ash was too tired and too numb to attempt a cookfire, so he unpacked dry food for their dinner. He poured a bowl of pellets for Oblivion, offered a handful of nuts and berries to Cirrus, and scrounged up some jerky for himself. He squatted outside the tent and they all ate in silence.

"Oblivion, tonight you'll be first on watch," Ash said once they were finished. "Wake Cirrus halfway through the night. She'll stand watch for a few hours, and then I'll take the last shift."

The Type: Null gave Ash a long-suffering look and grumbled.

"Sorry, but we all have to take turns at watch until our team is larger. We spoiled ourselves traveling with May and Brendan." Ash wiped rain off his face and sighed. "In retrospect, maybe we should have stuck to Pokémon Centers until I captured more team members."

He had been thinking about travel ever since they stepped foot on the Rainforest Trail. Rookie trainers faced several choices in the first weeks of their journeys, but one that often went unnoticed was their travel strategy. The influence this had on rookies was so far-reaching Professor Oak had mandated that he and Gary read a book on the topic written by Lorelei, a former member of the Kanto-Johto Elite Four. Ash had – for once – taken the reading assignment seriously; even pokémon professors with their doctorates and journals and halls of ivy all snapped to attention when an Elite Four member published their insights.

Lorelei had developed five classifications of trainers based on travel strategy: students, drifters, urbanites, capturers, and explorers. Students and drifters were so removed from Ash's own philosophy that he had skipped those chapters – he didn't care to read about trainers that either went without travel or a plan – but after today he kept thinking about the latter three categories. He suspected that all the rookies he knew could be classified into them. Including himself.

Urbanites were trainers that played it smart and safe. They traveled from city to city, catching pokémon on the main routes and utilizing methods like trading and Safari Zones to fill out their rosters with rarer captures. Thanks to training within range of Pokémon Centers, urbanites could treat their teams to full nights of uninterrupted sleep and train hard the next day without the distractions of constant travel. They were often the first trainers of the season to prevail over eight gyms and register for their regional conference. Professor Oak had spoken highly of this strategy, and Ash pegged Gary and May as fledgling urbanites.

He considered the next classification the domain of type specialists, but technically capturers were just trainers confident in which pokémon species they intended to add to their team. Capturers prioritized catching team members above all else in the initial months of their journey, forgoing gym battles and traveling from one pokémon habitat circled on their maps to the next. If they sought rare pokémon, it wasn't unheard of for a capturer to dedicate months to searching that pokémon's known habitats until they tracked it down. But while their teams lacked battle prowess at the beginning of their journeys, catching a team of six or more early in the season allowed capturers to progress faster than other trainers; their teams were tightly-knit, competitive families where each pokémon learned from the rest. If this travel strategy was combined with a type specialty, then capturers were especially formidable opponents – their pokémon were all capable of learning and teaching each other the most advanced moves of their type. Brendan was undoubtedly a capturer, and while Ash knew he'd defeat Brendan in any battle they had now, he'd need to be wary in the coming months.

The last trainers out there were explorers. Lorelei described this as the riskiest classification a trainer could embrace, involving the most potential peril. Explorers ventured off the main routes and into the heart of the wilderness, seeking out adventure while they trained their team. They were the most prone out of the five classifications to dying on their travels, but the explorers that survived were enigmatic foes in battle. With strange techniques and pokémon rarely seen on the battlefield, an explorer even unnerved trainers many years their senior. Explorers were trainers of extremes – they were either washouts or prodigies – but regardless of the outcome they often had the greatest bonds of trust with their pokémon.

Of all the classifications, Ash knew he was meant to be an explorer. He had grown up hearing stories of First Champion Taizo's rise from betrayed noble to warrior-king, myths of King Azoth and the pride that plunged the world into the Black Age, and he couldn't deny himself the chance to create a tale of his own.

Ash looked up at his team and realized both Oblivion and Cirrus were watching him; Oblivion had his head tilted in query, and Cirrus had stopped grooming her feathers. Though his mention of future teammates was offhand, it occurred to him they would be curious. The pokémon he captured would be their companions for the rest of their lives.

"I don't have specific species I want to catch, if you're wondering," he said. He swung the pale beam of his flashlight into the rainforest, staring at the shadowed trees and dark drizzle of rain. "I want to see what's out there for myself, not check species off a list. Who knows what we'll find?"

Cirrus glanced nervously at the shadows and fluttered closer to Ash. Hopping onto his leg, she nudged past his dripping vest and buried under his t-shirt.

Ash laughed at the tickle of her feathers against his stomach. "I didn't mean that ominously, you know. But I'll keep in mind not to tell ghost stories if you're …"

He trailed off as his eyes landed on a nearby blackbark trunk. Five feet up, the bark was gouged to the inner skin with crude, deep claw marks.

"Oblivion?" Ash called quietly. He locked eyes with the Type: Null and nodded at the blackbark tree.

Oblivion padded to the rain-slicked trunk. Sniffed at the claw marks. His hackles rose. In that second, Ash realized what they were looking at.

Territorial scratchings.

"It has to be Vigoroth," Ash said. "We should move. If we've camped on a patrol route –"

Ferns trembled in violent motion. Something hairy and humanoid and hulking streaked into the glare of Ash's flashlight, its claws flashing, its fangs bared at its future kill.

It was a pokémon with glittering, hateful eyes – a Vigoroth.

Ash let out an incoherent yell and reacted on instinct. He thrust his flashlight into the lunging pokémon's jaws. The Vigoroth snapped them shut, crunching the flashlight into dozens of pieces. Spat the plastic aside and leapt at him.

But his gambit had given Oblivion crucial seconds to act. The Type: Null roared, bunching his muscles, and rammed his steel mask into the Vigoroth. The crack of bones echoed under the roar of the rain; the Vigoroth went flying into the ferns. A primal howl rose from the darkness and Oblivion spun immediately, tensed himself, and sprang from a blow just as the Vigoroth rushed out of the ferns and attempted to rip its claws into Oblivion's flank. The Vigoroth's shock at swiping empty air lasted just long enough for Oblivion to sink his fangs into the pokémon's neck, holding it firm as it thrashed against him.

Then the Vigoroth's eyes rolled back and it dropped to the dirt.

Ash gasped out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He shifted the shivering Swablu into his arms and prodded the Vigoroth with his boot. Limp and out cold. For a fleeting moment, he considered capturing it, but he didn't need an irascible normal-type on his team. He shook his head and blinked rapidly, trying to settle his thumping heart.

"Check on the Vigoroth and make sure it's not playing dead. Then guard it while I pack up camp," he told Oblivion.

Hours later, Ash lay awake in his relocated tent, having fumbled through the rainforest without a flashlight until they were a safe distance away from the unconscious Vigoroth. The rain drummed against the tent tarps, a deluge that sounded as if Kyogre was drowning the world, and he listened to it as he stared into darkness. The rain didn't bother him; it was the worry of a Vigoroth troop spotting his camp that kept him awake. Oblivion and Cirrus could fend off lone Vigoroth, but a troop would slaughter them.

His mind was as restless as the rain. Once he was certain Cirrus was asleep – snuggled under the sleeping bag with him, softly humming while she dreamt – he scrolled through his pokédex to muffle the whisper of his thoughts. But he just stared at the glowing images of pokémon without absorbing the information he read.

He'd been stupid. It was stupid to set up camp without scouting his surroundings for danger, stupid to miss the signs that it was a Vigoroth patrol route. Sure, Oblivion had defeated the Vigoroth, but what if he had camped within reach of the full troop? What if he camped outside a Shiftry's den? He needed to sharpen his survival instinct. In the wilderness night, when the rainforest became black and damp and claustrophobic, he was prey.

_It won't happen again_ , Ash promised himself. _I won't die because of a stupid mistake._

Ash's eyes eventually drifted shut and cognizance slipped away from him. Sometime later, he became foggily aware of Oblivion laying down in the tent, and he slid closer to the Type: Null's warmth, nestling into his side. Oblivion stiffened at the closeness but slowly relaxed as he watched his trainer snore. He lowered his great head next to Ash's own. Closed his eyes.

Together, they slumbered in the solitude of the rain-soaked night.

~O~

Trudging through the rainforest wasn't hard. Trudging through the rainforest at a decent speed was impossible. Only Cirrus was spared the muddy slush of the Rainforest Trail, but even she was at the mercy of the storms. As she careened wildly through the air, weighed down by her waterlogged wings, Ash and Oblivion stumbled over roots and slipped through mud, forging ever deeper into the thundering rainforest.

Ash rambled to Oblivion whenever the quiet unsettled him. But the Type: Null seldom acknowledged his words, his eyes slitted in concentration as he discharged Thunder Waves. Lightning fizzed and snapped at the blackbark trees, leaving sooty singes on their trunks.

A week passed. They settled into a dreary routine as they hiked till dusk and then trained in the long nights. Ash kept half an eye on his team while they honed their techniques, but the rest of his attention was directed towards setting up his tent, cooking, and scribbling battle strategies in his notebook. Sporadically, he'd call out to one of his pokémon and correct their stance.

He had expected Cirrus's timidity to hinder her training, but she adapted to the regimen with fierce attention to his teachings. She devoted herself to practicing her new moves, and to Oblivion's disgruntlement, mastered Disarming Voice in a single week thanks to her prior experience with Sing. She was still an anxious little bird, but she had a determination to carry her weight that Ash respected.

In the late twilight of a typical day on the Rainforest Trail, Ash sat on a mossy log, resting after unpacking his tent. The rain had lightened to a drizzle, and his team was training with more vigor than usual. He scanned the rainforest again, but he had already scouted the terrain with Cirrus's help. Iridescent Beautifly fluttered through shafts of reddening sunlight, and emerald leaves sparkled from the rain. All told, he felt satisfied with their progress in training and on the trail.

Yet there was still planning to be done. He drummed his fingers on the log and considered his goals.

Cirrus streaked over him in a flash of silver while he thought. The Swablu had been practicing Steel Wing, and while the move was currently flash without substance, the fiery glint of her feathers in the light of the dying sun was breathtaking. He went through his notes again and again, committing personalities and tricks and signature pokémon to memory, men and women that rose from the pyres of the Ninth Dragon War.

What would it be like to meet these people, stare them down, test his will against them? Could he confront the gym leaders of Lavaridge and Sootopolis, one calloused and burnt from the lava ravines, one sleek and graceful as a fish, and force a gym badge from their hands? Would whispers of his team reach them from the young and ambitious Roxanne? What courage would he need to descend into the dark, mechanical underworld of New Mauville, saying, "Yes, good day Wattson, raving trickster, master and madman of this mechanical city. I see you have hidden yourself in these darkest depths and devised traps to keep all but your rivals in madness from interrupting your work. But no matter that, I am the next victor of the Ever Grande Conference, and by right of your League, I am here to defeat you."

He would face battlers of indomitable might.

And there were strange omissions in his notes that troubled him. The Twins of Mossdeep, cute children no older than nine, were official gym leaders despite the ban on underage trainers. What guile was masked behind their youthful smiles?

A growl echoed through the rainforest, and Ash looked up from his notebook with a sigh. "You won't make headway on Iron Defense until you stop comparing yourself to Cirrus," he said. "Concentrate on generating steel-type energy."

Oblivion huffed. His eyes were narrowed at the Swablu, who darted through the trees, slicing leaves with silver-tipped feathers. He dragged a claw through the soil and inhaled to attempt Iron Defense again, but not a single hair glinted silver.

Snarling, the Type: Null swung his metal mask in frustration. Snapped at a fern frond that dared to brush his flank.

"Want to take a break and practice Thunder Wave?" Ash asked.

Oblivion gave him a side-eye, assessing his trainer for mockery or condescension. Detecting none, he shook his head. Inhaled to attempt Iron Defense once more.

Both of them stood in silence as the songs of Taillow and shriek of Ninjask permeated the rainforest.

Ash frowned. The Type: Null was faring well with Thunder Wave, but Iron Defense had mystified him since he'd been taught the theory of the move five days ago. There was some fundamental trick to it that defied his comprehension.

"I can't have you stuck on this move, Oblivion. It dampens all our moods, yours most of all." He whistled, and a white dot in the distant rainforest arced towards them. "Let's see if Cirrus can show you anything."

Oblivion swung his head in an emphatic _no!_ , backing away like Ash had confessed he was secretly a coordinator that wanted to decorate him with rhinestones.

Ash rolled his eyes. "It's not shameful to seek advice. Cirrus has a knack for learning new moves, so she should be a decent teacher."

But as Cirrus alighted on his wrist and locked eyes with Oblivion, trembling as she swiveled her head between Ash and the Type: Null, he had the sinking intuition this wouldn't proceed as he hoped.

"Hey, would you mind working with Oblivion?" Ash asked. "It won't be for long, I promise."

Cirrus fluffed her feathers in alarm. Her shaking intensified, and for a heartbeat Ash became convinced she was suffering a seizure. Her eyes were shut tight; she clawed at his t-shirt, drawing pinpricks of blood.

_Shit_. Too late he realized how she must have interpreted his request.

"Um, Cirrus?" he tried. "Hey, look at me. It's okay, I don't want you to battle him. He just needs some help with steel-type energy."

He stroked her feathers and spoke to her in soft tones in an attempt to calm her. Wiped mud from her down; plucked out sprigs of moss. In the wild, he knew Swablu flocks devoted hours a day to grooming one another, removing ticks and dirt. Grooming was an important behavior in their social dominance structure, but like massages for people, it also seemed to have a soothing effect on Cirrus. Perhaps it reminded the Swablu of her former flock?

Regardless, he eventually eased Cirrus out of her anxiety attack and then corralled Oblivion, who had wandered away to sniff at some ferns. He set Cirrus on a mossy log and convinced Oblivion to sit down and cock his head at her as she slowly demonstrated her process for Steel Wing. Breathed a sigh of relief and went back to his notes.

His serenity was short-lived.

He had just scribbled down an idea for defeating Roxanne when Cirrus perched on one of Oblivion's metal spokes. The Type: Null freaked, instinctively rearing onto his hind legs, and snapped at the Swablu, catching feathers in his mouth as she darted from his fangs. Both pokémon's pupils were blown in panic – in the span of a heartbeat, Cirrus blurred through the rainforest and vanished into the gloom.

Ash sighed. _So much for that._

He didn't ask his pokémon to work together again.

~O~

Ash found the corpse deep within the rainforest, in the last light of dusk. He had stopped to stare at a vine-strangled cliff, rising dark and rocky on the trail ahead of him, waterfalls gushing down its face in the misting rain. If he hadn't, he would have missed the bloodless-white hand that reached out of the mud.

He trudged towards it with a tightness in his chest, trying to convince himself it was a twisted root. Felt his lips move – whistling to Cirrus of potential danger – as he knelt and wiped away mud. Shuddered at the touch of clammy skin.

It wasn't a root.

The hand belonged to an older trainer, judging by the clips on the man's belt. He had fear in his frozen expression, glassy eyes staring at the canopy with dread, and Ash thought he must have known what was coming, for shards of broken pokéballs were scattered in the mud. He swallowed down bile as he touched the glassy eyes with one finger and closed them. Pondered the loyalty of the man's pokémon, to have left his corpse to bloat and rot.

Oblivion sat beside him in silence. He lacked his usual swagger, and he rumbled in concern when Ash dug his hands into the mud and gasped, trying not to heave the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor.

"I'll be fine," Ash said in a hoarse voice. He took deep, shuddery breaths, filling his lungs with air, reminding himself he could still breathe.

It was clear Vigoroth had killed the man. The long weeks Ash spent traveling through the rainforest had familiarized him with the species, and he recognized the bruises and wounds on the man's bloated skin. He tried to tell himself the death was only natural. Vigoroth killed trespassers, whether they were traveling trainers or Vigoroth from rival troops; it was an instinct ingrained in their social DNA. The law of the rainforest.

"Oblivion, could you dig a hole so we can bury him?" he rasped.

The numb shock of the corpse was fading, and suddenly he was gripped with the need to flee from this grave and its reek of death as the rainforest darkened around him. But he remembered Professor Oak's drills for the licensing exam, and he fell back on the protocols that had been burned in his brain. Check for pokéballs. Obtain trainer ID. Bury the corpse.

Shielding his face from hurled mud as Oblivion dug into the black earth, Ash folded the man's arms across his chest. Muttered an apology as he began rifling through pockets. Nothing. He cursed and stared at the backpack strapped to the corpse. Steeling himself, he fumbled through mud while he tried to unstrap it. The corpse's arms were too stiff, and he struggled for several minutes before he remembered he could unhook the backpack from its straps.

He laughed hysterically. His hands shook as he choked on his own laughter, no longer completely in control of himself, and he let himself laugh in the shadowed rainforest until sound no longer escaped his lips and there were only wheezing gasps.

Then he unzipped the backpack.

Ash found the man's trainer identification card in an interior pocket. He wiped off the mud he had left on the plastic card and squinted in the dark to read the tiny letters: _Rico Rivera_. The name meant nothing to him. Shrugging, he pocketed the ID and resumed rifling through the backpack, in search of hidden pokéballs Rico hadn't destroyed.

He never found any pokéballs. Instead, his fingers brushed against a familiar container, its glass panes slightly warm to the touch. Strangely warm, in the rainforest's dark mist.

"Shit," he whispered.

He shifted in the mud, unready for the burden Rico had posthumously thrust upon him. Realized he had stumbled upon a twist in his fate. Bracing himself, he raised the incubator out of the backpack.

Inside stood a white pokémon egg, gleaming in the dark.

~O~

Night fell heavy on them. Except for the red glow of the cookfire coals, it was black.

Ash stared at the pokémon egg beside him as he shoveled pan-cooked yakisoba into his mouth. He, Oblivion, and Cirrus ate in silence. Beyond the glow of the coals, there was nothing except the yip of Breloom and the throbbing _ji-ji-ji_ of the Ninjask, the rumble of distant thunder and the rustle of leaves in the rain.

The memory of the corpse lingered behind Ash's eyelids. Dreading sleep that night, he contemplated the egg to keep himself calm. He hadn't wanted to raise the egg of an unknown pokémon, but now ruminating on its species was his only salvation from flooding memories. The corpse, Admiral Archie's cold blue eyes, the pulsating glow of the Beheeyem's fingers – all threatened to fuse into a single sinister nightmare.

The pokémon was presumably white in coloration. In a feat of convergent evolution, most pokémon species laid eggs with colored and sometimes even patterned shells, to prevent species like Murkrow and Persian from eating eggs in the nests they spotted, then replacing the eaten eggs with their own. Often eggshells matched the color of their species, though Ash was blanking on white pokémon. Seel? Wingull? Those were the only two he could remember.

The rumble of thunder echoed in the rainforest. Rain gushed harder, snuffing out the coals, and soon Ash was ankle deep in water. He volunteered for first watch, still meditating on the egg. Oblivion and Cirrus retreated into the tent.

Time passed. It could have been minutes or hours – Ash lost track. He listened to the rain as he hunched in the storm, longing for a poncho. The cold seeped into his bones; his body felt heavy and numb. Slowly, his eyelids began to droop.

Lightning splintered through the blackbark trees, and in the eerie flicker, Ash saw glowing eyes amongst the ferns. Dozens of them. Watching. Waiting for him to sleep.

He stiffened. Fought the urge to scream, to lunge for the utility knife in the pile of the cookware by his tent. His eyes darted left and right. Sure enough, he saw shadows flitting through the blackbark trees.

Shit. _Shit._ Who knew how long they'd been stalking him? He must have walked into a trap – the corpse a lure left on the Rainforest Trail. A lure to tarry trainers as the Vigoroth gathered amongst the shadows and scouted their kill.

Troops behaved differently from lone Vigoroth. The alphas were Vigoroth on the brink of evolution, slower but with the cunning of Slaking. They liked to stalk and trap and calculate, and by the time their prey detected them, they had already set up their kill. It was dumb luck that Ash had seen them before they attacked, but he just felt sick with fear as he realized there was nowhere to flee. There were no low-hanging branches on the blackbark trees, no handholds he could use to climb to safety.

His hand inched for the utility knife. The Vigoroth in the ferns seemed to recognize the ploy, and howling war cries drowned out the rain, their voices rising as one. Ash gave up any pretense of stealth and dove for the knife – slipping, sprawling through the mud. Heard himself scream Oblivion's name.

Vigoroth erupted from the ferns. Oblivion's howl pierced the night, and a hurricane of movement whirled through the camp as he answered their challenge. He tackled a Vigoroth whose claws sliced for Ash, and mud splattered onto the trainer as he crouched lower. A shadow streaked over Ash's shoulder from the tent, shrieking at such a high frequency he reflexively grit his teeth; it dive-bombed another Vigoroth that loomed over him.

Cirrus! The tiny Swablu's shaking determination emboldened him. He clenched the knife in his hand and stood up. His two pokémon flanked him, shielding his body with their own.

The Vigoroth circled in the darkness, dozens of black shapes snarling. But that wasn't what Ash needed to worry about. Behind him, the wind whistled at his neck.

Ash spun and side-stepped. The lunging Vigoroth twisted in pursuit, inhumanly agile, but the flash of a Thunder Wave paralyzed it. Oblivion's massive form charged towards the Vigoroth in the rain. Skidded to a halt as he rushed harmlessly through empty air – the Vigoroth had leapt aside despite the paralysis.

A second Vigoroth used the opening to lunge at Ash, claws flashing in a flicker of lightning. Ash ducked the blow, barely. Its lips drew back, showing fangs, as its paralyzed partner distracted Oblivion.

"Oblivion, over here! Thunder Wave!"

A lightning bolt stabbed at the Vigoroth. It leapt from the Thunder Wave and rushed Ash again, but this time Cirrus was there.

She pecked at its eyes with a glowing beak. Blood-curdling screams shook the night as the Vigoroth staggered; Cirrus capitalized on its vulnerability to slice at it with Steel Wing. She darted around the pokémon, steel feathers carving long red lines into its pelt, and it screamed and screamed and screamed, swiping blindly at the Swablu, until it staggered and toppled into the mud.

More Vigoroth slunk from the ferns, baring teeth and growling. Two crouched before Ash and Cirrus. Ash glanced sideways and saw Oblivion tussling with three – the Type: Null panted, his chest heaving, as he rammed the paralyzed Vigoroth with a brutal Tackle.

Cirrus warded off the nearest Vigoroth with Disarming Voice. The pair didn't flinch as the pink rings burst against them. She faltered.

A Vigoroth hurled itself at Ash, snarling, white claws glittering in the rain.

Ash swung his knife as the claws swiped towards him. He yelled for another Disarming Voice, wincing at his knife's useless stab at the Vigoroth's pelt. The blade was too dull. It didn't even pierce skin.

The Disarming Voice hit a heartbeat later and the Vigoroth reeled backward. Cirrus swooped in front of Ash, screaming out the pink rings.

Ash wiped the rain from his face and narrowed his eyes. The darkness flickered with Disarming Voices and Thunder Waves, illuminating the grim odds. He needed to regroup his team. Separated, they stood no chance against the Vigoroth.

_Don't_ _panic. Think. It's the only weapon you've got._

If he stumbled, the Vigoroth would kill him like Rico. They'd rip out his jugular and blood would bubble from his throat as he screamed.

Feet splashed in the puddles behind him. Ash whirled around even as he barked out an order. "Cirrus, behind you! Steel Wing!"

Cirrus turned, and a silver light blazed from her body. She rammed into the Vigoroth with a bone-breaking boom – Ash felt the rattle in his teeth. The Vigoroth slammed into a blackbark tree and crumpled to the dirt.

In the same heartbeat, a wild Thunder Wave burst from a frenzied Oblivion, a white flare that sparked and crackled and made Ash's eyes water. He dove for the mud. Shuddered as he felt the electric current rush over him, a white hot lance.

Some instinct told Ash to roll sideways. He trusted it, blind as his eyes readjusted to the darkness, and made out the shadow shape of a Vigoroth collapsing to the ground where he'd been moments before.

Several Vigoroth spasmed in the mud, whining and scrabbling at nothing in the throes of paralysis. But two Vigoroth still stood, and more materialized from the ferns.

Ash and Oblivion fell in beside each other. But there was no mirth to the reunion – Ash's throat dried as he realized Cirrus had vanished. He frowned, squinting through the rain.

"Cirrus!"

He recognized her crumpled shadow lying in a puddle. The Swablu spasmed and convulsed, arcs of electricity sparking off her wings. She didn't respond to her name.

Ash's skin prickled with fear. He sucked in a breath and glanced at the Vigoroth stalking towards them. _Alone_ _Oblivion will_ _fall._ _W_ _e won't walk away from this the victors –_ _i_ _f we walk away at all._

That was the grim truth. The Vigoroth had separated them. Ganged up on them each. He had let the Vigoroth exploit their lack of cohesion, and now he was going to die for it.

Fingers trembling, Ash unclipped Cirrus's pokéball and returned her while he still had time.

"You've got no backup now," he whispered to Oblivion. "I'm going to grab our supplies – maybe we can still run for it. Cover me."

The ferns exploded into motion. Oblivion reared onto his hind legs and caught the Vigoroth in midleap. His fangs sunk into its neck, but the Vigoroth crashed into him and they went tumbling. Another lunged for the Type: Null. Claws slashed at his legs. The circling Vigoroth rushed in on him in turns, howling and slashing and then twisting away.

Ash tore his eyes from the struggle, sprinting for his backpack. He scooped up the egg. Frantically stuffed it into his backpack, then leaped back as a Vigoroth barreled at him. Its claws ripped through a sleeve; Ash felt a hot trickle of blood from his right arm, but his pain was dampened by the relief that the Vigoroth hadn't pinned him.

_Turn. Turn!_

Wind rushed from behind Ash as another Vigoroth attacked. They always coordinated; it made him realize how artless his pokémon were at teamwork. He spun, stabbing his knife into the Vigoroth with all his momentum. The knife buried itself into its skin, but the Vigoroth snarled and barely backed off at all.

Out of his peripheral vision, Ash saw a Vigoroth leap for Oblivion's back. The Type: Null was distracted by the others' slashes and feints. Couldn't see it coming.

"Oblivion!" Ash shouted, but it was too late. The Vigoroth sunk its fangs into the Type: Null's neck. Ash watched, stunned, as he howled in agony and slammed into the dirt with a clanging thud. More Vigoroth leapt onto Oblivion, ripping their claws into his fur, burying him in a pile of writhing white.

_Nononono!_

Ash realized he was screaming the word, his heart ripped by the sight of Oblivion's collapse. He returned the limp Type: Null with shaking hands. Froze as the eyes of too many Vigoroth flickered towards him.

He turned to run, but the knifed Vigoroth lunged. It covered the distance in a blur, grabbing him before he even took a step. His body somersaulted and the world spun. He was flying. The Vigoroth had flung him high in the air, and the other Vigoroth bayed and howled, panting in excitement.

Darkness waited below. Shadow ferns rushed up.

He slammed face-first into the ferns. Scrambled upright, bloodied and panicked and scared. Pain lanced through his ankle as he limped forward, but he ignored it, then forced weight on it as he fled.

The rainforest ripped at Ash, tripping him with roots, slashing at him with serrated leaves. He plunged like a Rhyhorn through its leafen shadows, thrashing and snapping a blind path. He knew he was noisy enough even the stupidest Vigoroth could follow, but his instincts screamed at him to keep running.

He could hear the Vigoroth crashing through the tangle behind him. He half-skidded down a bank, his boots slipping in the slick muck. His ankle was a knot of hot agony. Blood welled from a cut on his forehead and dripped into his eye, making him swear.

The blackbark roots loomed and twisted in the night, a head-spinning labyrinth of mossy rot. The gushing rain made it worse. Ash vaulted over a root, praying that the Vigoroth were falling behind.

He stumbled into waist-deep water. Tripped and screamed bubbles of air as he plunged beneath its surface. His eyes snapped open. A dark world of unexpected depth beckoned him. The pond here went deep, many feet deeper than he could stand. Blackbark roots snaked into it, twisted black overhangs that promised concealment.

Ash swam for the gargantuan roots, weaving between them, resurfacing in their deepest shadows. He gasped out a breath before falling silent. Only his head peeked above the water.

_Keep chasing shadows. Don't look too closely._

He heard the Vigoroth crashing close. Their rapid chattering and heaving breaths, twining with the howls of slower Vigoroth and the patter of rain on water. All of it filtered down to the lurking trainer. He hardly dared to breathe.

The Vigoroth waited at the pond's edge as they tried to determine what to do. Some sloshed into the water. Ash felt cold ripples as they clumsily paddled deeper.

Heart pounding, he sucked air into his lungs and ducked his head beneath the water. He let himself float motionlessly, staring into the pond. Black nothingness. His heart thudded against his chest as his oxygen depleted.

In the deepest depths of the water, something – no, some _thing_ stirred.

Ash's eyes widened. Terror fanned down his spine as he realized he wasn't the only lurker in this black pit.

A monster was crawling through the water, shadowy and silent. Ash stifled a scream as it passed. Feet and feet of red armor slid past him, a colossal king of a crustacean. The pokémon was greater in size than the oldest Nidoking of the plains. A terror of a Crawdaunt, spiked claws clicking, easing through the darkness with lethal grace.

Its beady eyes tracked the Vigoroth; its claws twitched at every chatter and howl. The noise had disturbed its slumber.

The first Vigoroth was dragged down without a splash. The second was snapped up in a claw. Blood smoked the water.

The Vigoroth on the shore howled at the slaughtering Crawdaunt. They hunched at the pond's edge, swiping at it, baring their fangs. Those in the water swam for safety but sank underneath one by one. The water surged with the scarlet struggle.

Ash fought to keep his heart steady. He knew he needed to keep his fear under control – to keep his mind sharp – if he was to remain hidden. But even as he tried to tell himself he wasn't panicking, he could feel whimpering terror swell within him. Blood clouded the water all around.

The Vigoroth clumped at the edge of the pond, howling and slashing at the surface of the water. But their fury did not bother the Crawdaunt. It ripped chunks of meat and swallowed them whole; the teeth in its stomach would continue its digestion.

Ash watched the Crawdaunt, wanting to gag at his proximity to its feeding, estimating his likelihood of survival. Nausea swam in his stomach.

Trapped here, he felt like a fool for hiking the Rainforest Trail. He'd taken a rookie pokémon team into the wilderness, untested and unwilling to work together, and expected to survive with only the barest precautions. A camouflaged tent or combat knife or spare flashlight could have made all the difference, but he hadn't bothered. His high licensing exam score combined with his powerful starter had made Ash believe he was ready to take on the world.

Worst of all, he hadn't trained his team as a _team_. He'd let petty disagreements linger between Oblivion and Cirrus to the point that they outright ignored each other. That was why the Vigoroth had made short work of their defenses. That was why he was hiding in a predator's lair.

The Vigoroth troop and the Crawdaunt weren't his enemies. Negligence was his only foe, as always. Trainer versus nature was a falsehood; the real conflict of nature was trainer versus self.

Above, the Vigoroths' chattering faded into the distant rainforest. They'd reached their own conclusion – that the Crawdaunt reigned supreme in the water – and turned tail.

The Crawdaunt gorged on its kills while Ash deliberated. If he moved, the Crawdaunt would detect him, but his lungs were burning from oxygen deprivation. The longer he waited the clumsier he'd become. Blood thudded in his ears.

Ash grabbed onto a blackbark root, heaving himself upward.

The Crawdaunt lashed toward him. Ash tensed his muscles and flung himself onto the blackbark root, clawing out of the water. A gargantuan claw snapped into the root, sending splinters flying, but it missed him.

He hastened to solid dirt, stars swimming in his vision from low oxygen. A rush of pure satisfaction flooded his mind as he collapsed into the rainforest mud. Forced himself to crawl forward another hundred feet before blackness saturated his vision, and he passed out.

He had survived.

Somehow, he had survived.

~O~

Hidden in a clump of ferns, Ash lay like a dead man, curled where he'd fallen in the night. His arms were crusted with scars, and dried blood flecked the fern fronds despite the weeping rain. His eyelids twitched as raindrops splashed his face, but otherwise he did not move.

At high noon, when a shaft of sunlight hit him and lit the ferns lush green, Ash groaned and buried his face into his arms. The weight on his scars made them ache, and he groaned again, shifting. Awareness of last night's injuries slowly crept over him.

Ash's eyes snapped open. At first he thought he was hungover. His thoughts were clouded by a fog of pain, and his body twinged with dozens of aches and sores. He moaned and buried his head in his hands. He had told Gary after their first experiment that he would never get this drunk again.

Then he remembered fleeing through ferns as Vigoroth howled at his heels. Blood churning water. His pokémon out cold inside their pokéballs.

_I should tend to them_ , Ash thought, propping himself up on his elbow. He rubbed his eyes in the dappled sunlight. Shoved the nightmarish images into the back of his mind, trying to keep himself rational. He could unbottle his emotions when he was safe in the Rustboro Pokémon Center.

Slowly, he stood up, brushing leaves and dried mud from his clothes. Pain blossomed in his ankle from the weight, and he grimaced. Hopped to a rotten mossy log to sit down.

Ash spent the next hour washing himself with leaf-pooled rainwater. Pulling on clean clothes, he eyed the purple bruises and red cuts adorning his skin. Ugh. He'd draw stares when he arrived in Rustboro. At least his ankle was his only severe injury.

Once he'd tended to himself, he released his pokémon and ordered them to hold still as he sprayed potions and rubbed salves into their wounds. They understood the warning tones in his voice, and neither Oblivion nor Cirrus fussed over the others' presence.

_They've healed so much already; only the greatest wounds are left._

Ash felt fleetingly envious of his pokémon's inhuman cell replication, of the super-clotting agents in their blood. They were creatures designed for combat, unlike frail humans, and he would bear the scars of last night far longer than either of them.

He noticed their guilty expressions – Oblivion's head hanging low, Cirrus tugging at her feathers to avoid eye contact – and took a deep breath. Considered what he would say.

"I'm sorry," Ash started. "I've let you both down on some fronts. I was so focused on exercise drills and nutrition and movesets that I forgot we're a team – not some collection of independent fighters." He sighed and rubbed a bruise on his neck. "The truth is, our teamwork sucks, and it's why the Vigoroth troop outclassed us from the outset. That's on me, but I swear I'll do better as your trainer moving forward."

He paused, giving the pokémon a few seconds to let his words sink in.

"But I won't sugarcoat this. Half the problem is that I've been too lenient on you. I don't care _what_ the issues between you two are; from now on you're going to respect each other. This isn't a family holiday where we can indulge in petty squabbles. This is our future," Ash said. "Cirrus, I expect you to trust Oblivion as a fellow teammate. I know you have some post-traumatic stress to deal with, but he's harmless."

Oblivion grumbled in disagreement, earning him Ash's full attention. He scowled at the Type: Null. "And you! You're supposed to be my second-in-command! I don't care if you terrorize half of Hoenn with your growling and biting, but it stays outside our team. Lay off Cirrus. Understand?"

Oblivion and Cirrus glanced at each other uncertainly.

"Well?" Ash asked.

He was surprised when Cirrus was the first to respond – he'd half expected another anxiety attack. Bobbing her head, the Swablu chirped an affirmative.

Oblivion licked the side of Ash's face with his scratchy tongue.

"Hey, that tickles," Ash said with a laugh. "Just remember, we're a team. We've got to have each other's backs."

Oblivion and Cirrus mumbled their consent. He watched them, searching for any hint of animosity or defiance, but there was none. He sighed in relief. Realized that his hands were shaking with tension and hurriedly stuffed them into his pockets.

"All right," he said. "Now let's orienteer ourselves to Rustboro."

He dug through his backpack for the map he'd bought in Petalburg; it encompassed the Rainforest Trail and other geographic landmarks within the rainforest. He had veered off the trail last night and had no idea which direction he'd sprinted in the pitch black, but that was what the map was for anyway.

... If he remembered how to read it. How was he supposed to know where he was on it again? All the coordinates and wavy lines were bewildering.

Oblivion snorted at him when he flipped the map sideways for the umpteenth time, frowning at it like it was some legendary puzzle from the Sinjoh Ruins. "Listen, it's harder than it looks," Ash defended. "It's not like you could do any better."

The Type: Null's green eyes glinted at the challenge, and Ash was taken aback when Oblivion peered over his shoulder to scrutinize the map. They stared down the map together, challenging it to reveal its secrets.

Shadows lengthened, and Cirrus had collected a sizable pyramid of gobletfruit by the time Oblivion snarled at the map and Ash stuffed it into his backpack out of sheer frustration."We don't need that thing anyway," Ash said.

Oblivion nodded, tossing his head in disdain at the idiotic human invention.

"I did figure out that there's a river to the east flowing all the way to Rustboro. There's no way I forded a river last night, so theoretically if we head east we can walk its shoreline till we arrive in the city," Ash said. "Hey, Cirrus, we're going now!"

The Swablu sagged in disappointment from her throne of gobletfruit. The succulent wine-red fruits gleamed in a golden ray of sunlight, and to her they must have looked like ambrosial jewels.

"Uh, you want me to bring along your fruit?" Ash asked, eying the pyramid that went up to his knees. There had to be at least forty gobletfruit in the stack. When had she collected them all?

Cirrus looked up at him hopefully.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, why not? Might as well if it makes you chirpy."

She did a cheerful loop in the air and trilled. Oblivion glanced back and forth between his smiling trainer and the Swablu, wagging his tail-fin.

"... You're not going to eat of all these by yourself, are you? Are you even capable of that?"

The three gathered around the gobletfruit and stacked them in Ash's backpack, laughing in the light of the setting sun. The egg lay in the dirt beside them, and though it went unnoticed, perceptibly twitched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This was the hardest chapter I've written yet (and not just because I've had to rewrite it twice), so I'm curious to hear your opinion. I'm super bored of it at this point and can't tell if anything is actually interesting; I can only hope you didn't feel the same when you read it. Sorry if the chapter was unexpectedly gruesome - on principle, I don't like including pokémon deaths, but canon has also established that pokémon eat each other. I'd like to clarify that I don't plan on killing any main cast pokémon, ever. This story has grimdark moments, but I don't want it to be grimdark as a whole.
> 
> Out of curiosity, what piece of foreshadowing has you the most intrigued so far? The past three chapters have hinted at a ton of future events, and I'd like to know which of them you're looking forward to the most. It'll help me get an idea of what I should take care not to mess up, haha.
> 
> Next chapter, the team finally arrives in Rustboro, ready to challenge Roxanne for the Stone Badge. But as exhausted as they are from their ordeals on the Rainforest Trail, can they prevail in their toughest battle to date?


	4. The Rusted City

The rainforest did not end all at once. It faded with the hours as Ash approached the Rusted City, giving way to the signs and scraps of civilization. The slumped shadows of shacks built amid blackbark trees and ferns. Sunken potholes in crumbling cobblestone roads. Moss-covered clusters of rusted buildings beneath the gloom of rainforest trees.

Ash followed a trail through the lush decay. He passed deep green ponds rimmed by floating algae, alone in his trek apart from the splash of Lotad and blue flash of Taillow. Bootprints in the muddy path were the only evidence people hung around the rainforest now.

Craning his neck, he stared in disbelief at the mossy, broken structures of Rustboro's outskirts as he hiked beneath them. It was a world of industry fallen into ruin, wrecked by war and the creep of nature. If he scrutinized the rainforest carefully, he could make out the boulevards that had been, before trees punctured their medians and encroached on crumbling towers. Ash pictured the people who had dwelt in the warped and molding buildings. There for generations and then gone in a blink.

Oblivion trailed at his heels, sniffing at the giant ferns that choked the path.

Ash glanced back and waited for the Type: Null to catch up to him with a tired sigh. The temptation to curl beneath the ferns, to doze in the dappled light of the afternoon, crept up on him whenever he halted. Travel had been rough ever since he'd lost his tent in the escape from the wild Vigoroth. He was lucky his ankle had healed after a few days of riding Oblivion, but his back ached from nights spent shivering in the rain, without even a sleeping bag to shield him from the downpour. He was muddy and sodden and bruised, and it had taken every scrap of Ash's devotion to maintain his team's training regimen during their time on the trail.

He didn't care that Rustboro was known as the Rusted City – to him, it promised paradise.

"Rustboro must have rivaled Saffron in its heyday," Ash said when Oblivion wandered up to him. He didn't like the stillness of wreckage. There was no soul left to it; just rotting timbers and shattered hulks of glass.

Oblivion cocked his head at Ash's comment, lacking the frame of reference to understand it.

Ash spared him a wan smile. "Have you ever been to a major city before? Hau'oli maybe?"

The Type: Null shook his head, growling lowly.

"So this will be your first time. Your owners really didn't like to travel, huh?" Ash said. "When we were in Littleroot, I could tell from how often you got sand clogged in your mask that you also weren't used to beaches."

Ash wasn't surprised when Oblivion ignored him. He frowned, thinking about how inexperienced the Type: Null was for a domesticated pokémon. Tried to imagine the life Oblivion must have led, living in a mega-complex on the sea, unused to sand or dense crowds or even simple human affection. He glanced at his starter for a long moment. The more he considered Oblivion's origins, the more his neck began to prickle. Perhaps distrust wasn't the only reason the Type: Null revealed nothing about his old life in Alola.

"Hey, Oblivion?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral. "I only know a bit about Alola, but aren't all the ports located in major cities like Hau'oli and Malie? If you've never been to any of them, where did your owners dock when you left the mega-complex?"

Oblivion stiffened in midstep on the trail. He swung his masked head around to stare at Ash in suspicion.

Ash locked eyes with the Type: Null, an even expression on his face. "I'm just asking."

He hated to make Oblivion uncomfortable, but he had to know.

Oblivion's green eyes flashed with an emotion Ash couldn't identify – misery? Bitterness? The Type: Null let the question hang in the air, breaking eye contact to stare down at his paws.

Ash exhaled a breath. There was only one answer that would warrant Oblivion's reaction. "You never left the mega-complex, did you? Locking you in a cage, it wasn't – it wasn't just how they transported you on the ocean liner. It was how they always treated you."

 _Those bastards_. Anger flared in Ash's gut. He'd suspected Oblivion's old owners were abusive, but until now it had just been abstraction. He never _got_ it. Somehow he let himself conflate the Type: Null's past with turquoise tropical waters, with glittering white beaches and leaping Wishiwashi. Instead, Oblivion had been imprisoned in one of the most beautiful regions on Earth, unable to understand what it meant to have his fur tangled with leaves, or for warm sand to shift beneath his paws. Locked in a harsh, walled-off world.

The irony didn't make him laugh.

He shook his head, controlling himself. Oblivion wasn't looking for sympathy, not if he had tried so hard to conceal his past. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "We'll go to all the amazing places in Hoenn, okay, you and me and the rest of the team. We'll see the Wailord pods swimming through the kelp forests of Mossdeep. The thousands cheering in the crowds of Ever Grande Stadium – cheering for _us_. Everything."

Oblivion glanced up into the rainforest tangles, searching for the sky. His eyes flicked toward him, questioning, and Ash felt himself nod. "I promise."

The Type: Null nodded in return, then hesitated for a moment, perhaps lost in memories. He padded ahead of Ash on the trail, glancing back to wait for his trainer to follow him into the gloom.

They walked on in tired silence. Ash watched Oblivion for a time, thinking about the pact between them ever since that night on the ocean liner. The way he'd clung to Oblivion through the storm-lashed waves; the way Oblivion now clung to Ash as the only human he could trust. Despite his growling and suspicious cynicism, Ash knew the Type: Null would stand between him and danger no matter how outmatched they found themselves. All because Ash had been the first human to let him out of a cage instead of forcing him in.

Ash tightened his fists. _I'll do better than that. Oblivion, Cirrus ... they have faith in me even when they have reason to never trust others again. I have to live up to that faith._

The thought of Cirrus made Ash grimace at the mud clinging to his calves, at the dried blood staining his shirt. He knew he reeked as well, from the little Swablu's distressed attempts at scrubbing him clean over the past week. He sighed. "Bite me if I try to leave Dewford without a water-type; I'd like the ability to wash up and do laundry on the trail. Next time we do something like this, we're going to be prepared."

Oblivion glanced up from sniffing at Shroomish footprints, cocking his head curiously.

"What? Oh. Dewford's the next city we're visiting – I've heard its gym leader is only a little stronger than Roxanne. With any luck we can catch a Spheal or something on the beach there."

 _If we can actually defeat Roxanne_ , Ash silently added. He shook his head and squashed the worm of doubt. He and his team had trained hard these past few weeks, devised tricks and techniques now written in his battered notebook. Together, they'd braved the horrors that lurked in the rainforest night.

They could do this.

At last, the rainforest parted, and Ash blinked as he stood beneath the wide blue sky. The dipping slope gave him a view of the city expanse. Skyscrapers stood as needles in the distance, piercing the clouds.

"Rustboro," Ash said.

If he remembered right, what he saw was just a husk of the city's former glory, before even the most loyal supporters of Rustboro were unwilling to weather the tragedies suffered by the industrial powerhouse.

Some companies like Devon Corp. had raised shielded towers in defiance to the Imperium, but investors and traders soon had enough of the endless Dragon Wars, and so left the cratered city to deep-sea loading platforms and industrial factories and slums, while they relocated their homes further east, where the beat of a thousand wings wouldn't be the first sign of an invasion.

At one time in the past, Rustboro had been known for its university and glittering wealth, its fusion dishes and star parties and nightlife. Now, in the years after the Ninth Dragon War, it was known for its lingering devastation, for twisted skyscrapers melted by massive gouts of flame, for the charred apartments and overgrown kudzu vine of a city struggling to rebuild.

Ash himself only knew of Rustboro because of his mother's fixation on the television during the war. He'd just grown out of his toddler years then, and was always trying to befriend Pidgey in the backyard, when he'd stumble into the dark house and see Delia huddled on the sofa, sniffling as the television glow reflected off her pale face. "Mom?" he'd say in his child's voice, and he'd give her a clumsy hug and overhear the somber voices of news anchors he didn't understand.

The Dragon Wars were over now – Lance Blackthorn had vowed to end his father's legacy of fire and blood. But for the Kanto separatists that still jeered whenever he appeared on television, for the white-bearded veterans that had fought in three Dragon Wars over their lifetimes, it would be blind not to expect a tenth.

Ash had faith in Champion Lance, yet he still didn't plan to linger in this ghost of a city. Even for him it held too many memories.

The trail stretched toward the skyscrapers, shimmering in a haze of humidity. The crumbling outline of the university stadium hunched behind them. That would be Rustboro's financial district. His destination.

Oblivion nudged Ash, tilting his head skyward as a white blur streaked beneath the clouds – Cirrus. She caught an updraft, circling them twice, before swooping down and landing on Ash's shoulder.

"Did you find the Pokémon Center?" Ash asked. It was blunt, but the three of them were past formalities. A week of sleep deprivation had that effect.

The Swablu chirped an affirmative. Pokémon Centers were designed with their iconic red roofs so flying-types could spot them from the air; they stood out even in cities of millions like Castelia.

"Great," Ash said. "We'll be counting on you to guide us when we get closer." He almost groaned with exhaustion as he imagined crawling beneath bed sheets. It had been years since he'd been in a city as massive as Rustboro, but he couldn't walk through it fast enough.

The three walked over a moss-covered bridge, passing over brackish water, brown with mud and leaked sludge and rotting fish. They walked past floating platforms and piles of ropes. Shipping crates were being loaded in ocean freighters with cranes. Machoke toiled, dripping sweat, as they hoisted anchors and lugged ropes as thick as their biceps.

Ash guessed he was in Rustboro's port district. He wasn't impressed – it was an ugly construction of concrete and industry – but he was glad he had Oblivion with him, protecting them as he led them deeper in. A few men squatted as they smoked cigarettes, tattooed with unfamiliar street symbols. A Mightyena slunk behind them. Ash could feel their eyes on him as he moved through their territory. His hands instinctively went to the pokéballs on his belt. He knew they were eyeing his team, evaluating their odds in a scrap.

Oblivion knew it too and growled at the Mightyena. The mangy pokémon bared its teeth at him in response, snarling as the man nearest it dropped his cigarette and let it sputter out on the concrete. His eyes never wavered from Ash.

Ash forced himself to calm, wiping emotion from his face and staring straight ahead as he trudged forward. If he showed an ounce of fear the men would mark him as prey. He felt Cirrus shiver on his shoulder.

But once they were closer, the men frowned and narrowed their eyes at the muscles that rippled as Oblivion moved, at the blood and slashes marring Ash's shirt. The Mightyena stopped snarling. They muttered to themselves but let Ash past, not knowing what to make of a trainer that wore dried blood on his shirt and walked with a pokémon that loomed over grown men.

Ash exhaled a breath after the men were all behind him. He shuddered, contemplating what would have happened if he'd wandered past the men with only a rare Mudkip or Charmander.

At last they poured out onto the main street of the financial district. He motioned for Oblivion to follow close, and they threaded through the foot traffic. Here, with the skyscrapers looming on either side and crowds crushing the thoroughfare, Old Rustboro survived. Suited men and skirted women rode by on bicycles, bells ringing as they streamed past. The smell of a bakery wafted into Ash's nose, mingling with the stench of cigarettes and reeking dumpsters. His stomach rumbled.

Eventually, they came upon the Pokémon Center. Ash felt himself smile at the building as the commotion of Rustboro swirled around him. It had been a week of nerve-wracking agony, but that was over now. He was in the city of a beatable gym leader. He was a step closer to his dreams.

"We made it, guys."

Cirrus looped in the air and let out a joyful chirp, swooping down to nip Ash's hat. He laughed and rested a hand on Oblivion, while the Type: Null lowered his head to lick his trainer's face.

The rainforest had been brutal. His time there had been an onslaught of roaring rain, slashing claws, and nights shivering beneath ferns. But in the end he completed the Rainforest Trail. That was what mattered.

Ash Ketchum had prevailed.

~O~

Later that evening, Ash lay facedown on his bed and sighed in pure bliss, having checked into a room and washed himself clean beneath hot shower spray. It felt like eternity since he'd last relaxed. The sheets were scratchy compared to his bed at home, and he'd noticed the walls were peeling, but compared to the Rainforest Trail, this was luxury.

He lay motionless for a few minutes, listening to the whisper of the AC and Oblivion's grumbling – the Type: Null had not enjoyed the scrubbing Ash had given him – before he sat up with a groan to look at his team. Cirrus was curled up on a pillow nearby, fluffed and puffed from the hair dryer after her bath in the sink. There was a perch in the room for bird pokémon, but she preferred a nest of pillows; Ash had an inkling it reminded her of cuddling with her flock. Oblivion, meanwhile, was resting on the rug, green eyes glimmering in the orange glow of sunset.

Ash yawned. He settled against a pillow and reached for the thick book he'd left on the nightstand: _A Trainer's Guide to Hoenn Pokémon_. Max had gifted it to him during his time in Petalburg, but the book still had the crisp scent of inked paper. Until now it had been buried in his backpack, untouched and unread.

_Might be a good idea to just skim through the pictures before I fall asleep._

Research was his least favorite aspect of pokémon training, but it was embarrassing how little he knew about Hoenn's pokémon compared to May and Brendan. He'd often lapsed into silence during their conversations on the species they wanted to catch, unwilling to admit he didn't know what a Spoink _was_ , let alone whether he wanted to catch one.

Ash wasn't going to lie to himself – as much as he liked wandering among unfamiliar, colorful pokémon on the streets, it would be a relief to feel less like a foreigner in his new home.

He was glad he at least had a foundation to build upon. He recognized many species from years spent cheering in front of the television with Gary, watching every conference that broadcasted to Kanto – Indigo, Silver, Ever Grande, Lily of the Valley – with his dad's Vulpix napping in his lap and Delia ruffling his hair whenever she walked past amid her chores. _Remember to get me a ticket so I'm not watching on this old TV_ _when you boys win your medals, understand?_ she'd say.

Ash smiled at the memory as he flipped through the glossy pages. This was an expensive book. It had multiple colored photographs of each pokémon, detailed research on their ecological niches, and even tiny maps of each species' suspected distribution across Hoenn. Considering the region was predominantly untamed wilderness, many species only had question marks where their maps were supposed to be, such as Snorunt and Bagon. It must have been a tremendous undertaking for the author to even attempt compiling such information; pokédex technology relied on crowd-sourced data from trainers marking the location of their captures, but data on rarer pokémon was seldom volunteered.

Trainers, after all, had motive to keep their discoveries to themselves.

He continued skimming through the book's pages, pausing occasionally to read about the strangest pokémon. The gametic organisms known as Beldum that contained DNA for fusion-induced evolution. Exploud and how most of their trainers needed hearing aids after years of exposure to Boombursts. Crawdaunt and the intestinal teeth that gouged their prey – Ash winced and quickly flipped past that page. Feebas and the mystery over how such an ugly, elusive fish evolved into the coveted Milotic.

Ash's imagination conjured phantasmal images of him releasing a Milotic to the gasps of a crowd, or commanding a Raichu to summon thunder from the heavens. He laughed quietly to himself, indulging in the fantasies, before he shook his head and brushed them from his mind. The possibilities were tantalizing, but he had a different dream that was about to become reality.

Battling a gym leader.

The hunger for triumph ached within him. A victory against Roxanne would be almost unreal, vindication for his struggles against the predatory pokémon of the rainforest. The means to assuage nightmares of bloated corpses and eyes glowing in the darkness. Usher them into faded memory.

Setting the _Trainer's Guide_ on the nightstand, Ash clapped his hands to catch the attention of his team. Oblivion lifted his head from the rug, and Cirrus hopped onto his lap. He even glanced at the egg incubator on the window sill, egg gleaming white inside, wondering if it could understand him.

"Let's all get a good rest tonight. I'll need to restock our supplies while we're here, and we'll continue your training regimens as usual, but otherwise how soon we challenge the gym leader is up to you," Ash said. "Roxanne will be the toughest trainer we've ever faced, so I want you at full strength when we battle her. Is a single day of rest enough?"

Oblivion and Cirrus shared a glance. The Swablu chirped something that caused Oblivion to shake his head. They weren't friends, and Ash would never partner them in double battles if given an alternative, but after his ultimatum in the rainforest they could at least communicate.

"Keep in mind our training sessions will just be review until we challenge Roxanne, so I wouldn't stall too long if I were you," he said. "Oh, and Cirrus, with your knack for learning moves I thought we could try for an advanced technique next."

Cirrus's eyes brightened at the prospect. Whatever debate she and Oblivion were having, that seemed to quell their indecision. As Ash yawned and switched off the lamp, they settled on a single day of rest.

 _I have faith it'll be enough for them,_ Ash thought, closing his eyes. _But I hope it's enough for me._

~O~

"You sure you're ready?"

Ash frowned at the Swablu nestled in his arms, scratching her downy feathers as he stood in the Pokémon Center lobby; she cooed and learned into his ministrations. It was the day after their arrival in Rustboro, and the two were about to scout out the gym. They didn't plan on battling Roxanne yet, but Ash wanted to book a time for his match.

"Don't think you have to push yourself, Cirrus," he continued. "I know you'll make a great battler one day, but if you're not ready to step onto the battlefield tomorrow, you just aren't."

Cirrus shook her head, eyes gleaming with determination. Her wings flashed the silver of a perfected Steel Wing.

"If you say so." Ash sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't going to feign calmness – the thought of battling Roxanne tomorrow sent nervous energy crawling beneath his skin. His heart was beating quicker, and his palms were slicked with sweat.

Around them, the Pokémon Center was teeming, a tangle of suntanned trainers that walked the streets of Rustboro as lively ghosts, drinking in bars and flashing exotic pokémon before vanishing for finer shores. Rookies waited in line for Nurse Joy while cradling bruised Pidove and Roselia. Hikers shouldered their way to the cafeteria, bellowing an off-kilter tune as Aron trundled after them. A Skitty peeked out of the tote bag on the sofa beside Ash, listening to the chatter of two girls in the uniform of Rustboro University. Sunlight drenched them all, promising summer swelter later in the day, and the AC was a steady drone beneath the laughs and chirps and mewls of morning.

Ash watched his fellow trainers, letting the commotion wash over him. It was somehow both comforting and overwhelming after weeks spent in the rainforest with no voices besides his own. The rich colors and flow of humanity staved off darker thoughts. Let him focus on the present instead of the past.

"The cafeteria's breakfast hours are already over, but want to get a bite to eat on the way to the gym? I haven't spoiled you with nearly enough treats yet," Ash said, stroking Cirrus's feathers.

Cirrus chirped in delight. Fluttering into the air, she circled his head and attempted to land on his League Expo cap, but Ash squawked and caught her, pulling her back down into his arms. She sighed and stared at him with pleading eyes.

"I'm already wearing a hat, girl, and fashion is hard enough for me to figure out without wearing two hats at once, especially when you're so ... cute and fluffy. It's not really my style." He shook his head wonderingly as she blinked at him. "But I guess you wouldn't see yourself as a hat, huh, just our heads as nice perches. Well, you can try landing on _others'_ heads and see if they like it."

On the way outside the Pokémon Center, he imagined himself with a Swablu on his head and snorted at the mental image – he doubted anyone would consider him an Ever Grande contender if he walked around like that. Then again, most Elite Four members did dress rather strangely.

The main street of the financial district was livelier than it'd been yesterday evening. Bicycles still streamed past, and skyscrapers vaulted into the clouds around them, but now there was an assortment of street carts, vendor tents, and rickety tables strewn about the street, crowding close to the Pokémon Center, all vying to snag a cent of profit from visiting trainers. Ash inhaled and enjoyed the scent of noodles frying in woks, strings of onions hanging from street cart rafters, and freshly baked bread. He couldn't wait to taste a meal he hadn't tried to cook himself.

After consulting with Cirrus, he counted out some coins and exchanged them for a loaf of milk bread at one of the tents. He bit into the warm, yeasty crust and sighed in pleasure. Tore off a chunk and let Cirrus nibble it from his fingers.

The two of them soon scarfed down the milk bread. Ash's stomach rumbled in pleasure, but he felt a twinge of guilt upon glancing down at the pokéballs clipped to his belt. Oblivion hadn't wanted to walk the streets with him today – he wasn't keen on a gawking swarm of humans, and it wasn't wise to publicize his existence too much with the pale man hunting for them.

Ash wandered the jumble of street sellers, wondering what Oblivion would like, when he spotted an ice cream stand between a malasada cart and a woman selling shell jewelry. He grinned at its sign with pictures for each flavor – vanilla, pineapple, coconut, and more besides – before releasing the Type: Null. He stifled a laugh at the ice cream seller's surprised yelp, then turned to Oblivion.

"Pick a flavor," he said, gesturing at the sign. "It's my treat. You too, Cirrus. We deserve a little break after the past few weeks."

Oblivion stared at the sign and prowled closer to it, deadly serious. He was still deliberating some minutes later, after Cirrus had picked the bluest flavor she could find – cotton candy – and Ash had ordered himself a cone of rocky road.

Ash smiled and stepped closer to the Type: Null. "It's not a consequential decision, Oblivion," he said. He licked his own cone even as Cirrus perched on his other arm and shivered at her ice cream's cold taste. "This won't be your only chance to have ice cream."

Startlement shimmered in the Type: Null's eyes, though he quickly suppressed it. He turned his head back to the sign and stared fixedly at the caramel flavor.

Ash sobered upon remembering their conversation in the rainforest. _Of course he'd consider opportunities like this to be fleeting._ He thought for a moment, then ordered two scoops for Oblivion; his size meant that the standard portion would be tiny to him.

They settled at an open table jammed amid the street stalls, and Ash offered the caramel cone to Oblivion. The Type: Null padded up to him and eyed the ice cream cone skeptically, before lowering his masked head and swallowing it in a single gulp. His eyes widened.

"Yeah, it's cold," Ash said with a grin. He was about to ask if he liked the taste, then noticed how Oblivion's eyes tracked his own cone. "Oh no you don't, this one's mine. Ask Cirrus if you can have her leftovers."

The Swablu was sitting on the table, having given up eating a quarter-way through her own ice cream. She'd been more interested in the cone than in the ice cream itself – that she seemed to mostly like for the color – and now it was dripping onto the table in fat blue globs.

Cirrus flew to Ash's wrist, letting Oblivion have it. It was licked up a heartbeat later.

Soon Oblivion was recalled into his pokéball and they were walking the streets again. Dilapidated apartments and blown-out windows and rubble were everywhere. And the city was endless. On and on the streets stretched and still the university stadium remained in the distance. Bicyclists and Wingull flickered past them.

Eventually, the cobblestone streets gave way to the cooler, tree-shaded campus of Rustboro University, with ivy-clad brick buildings and students in uniform chatting as they walked to class. The campus seemed untouched by the war's devastation, a small patch of rebirth amid the crumbling city. Ash read out the engraved signs on the buildings to Cirrus as they went past, explaining what each of them were: Lund School of Astronomy, Stern School of Engineering, Joy School of Medicine, and Birch School of Pokémon Science.

"Huh. For an old university, most of these names sound like contemporary figures," Ash said as he came across a statue of an Alakazam and a plaque on it that read: _The Eighth and Ninth Dragon Wars devastated the university campus, but most of it was reconstructed courtesy of the donors for which the schools are named. Thanks to a partnership with Devon Corp., the campus grounds are now protected with psychic-designed shields and an emergency alert system, so that Hoenn's first university may continue to serve as a center of scholarship for generations._

And then abruptly Ash came to a stop, the stadium towering above him. Its two iron-wrought doors were chained shut. He rattled them anyway, confused. Where was Roxanne? Students sat on nearby benches, eyeing him as he stood awkwardly at the entrance, the only person in sight who wasn't in uniform.

"You want the building past the fountain over there," a girl finally said. "Roxanne only uses the stadium for gym battles. Right now she's teaching, but she won't mind if you interrupt to schedule a match. Don't be surprised if she drags you into her lessons though."

Ash nodded in thanks before striding across the lawn, towards the building labeled Stone School of Trainership. He swung open a rusted door vined with passion flowers and stepped into the shadowed interior, blinking at the empty reception. Grunts and roars sounded from further inside the building, and he moved down the hall, opening the door at the end to arrive in a courtyard.

Students in the university's red-and-umber uniform were scattered throughout the courtyard, pokémon at their side. Nuzleaf and Geodude and Vulpix were engaged in simple combat, dodging and trading blows without the use of elemental techniques. Ash recognized Instructor Roxanne by her uniform: a vest worn over her blouse with intricate crimson stitchwork, which he guessed depicted the university's coat of arms.

"Instructor Roxanne," Ash called. He weaved his way through the dueling square, past dozens of battling pokémon, and stood before her. Cirrus flew on a few feet before realizing he'd stopped.

Roxanne pushed back a long strand of dark hair to assess him, her eyes calculating, before she fixed her attention back on her students. "I don't believe we've had the honor of meeting. Are you a prospective student here?" she asked with her back turned. "Have your Graveler step into its swing, Elimar!" A snapped instruction to one of the older students.

"I'm a challenger, actually," he said. "Call me Ash. I hear the League made you leader of this city's gym."

"The champion had disagreements with my predecessor. I hope to fulfill my duties more to his pleasing."

He recalled that the previous gym leader was rumored to have conspired with the Johto Imperium during the Ninth Dragon War. He suspected that alliance had cost the man dearly during the champion's latest campaign to clean house.

"Let's hope so," he said.

Roxanne finally turned to face him seriously, hands folded behind her back. Her face was angular and beaded with sweat from the heat of the day. She could have been taken for a student, with her diminutive stature, but no one would mistake her for someone without mettle.

"I look forward to the challenge you'll bring, Ash." She extended a hand and he shook it. Her grip was tight. Callused. "I don't accept same-day challengers, as they tend to interfere with my lessons and office hours, but I have time tomorrow. What say you to a two v. two at noon?"

"That's what I was hoping for, actually." He grinned. "I'll meet you on the battlefield tomorrow then."

Ash was about to turn and walk away when Roxanne stepped forward and gripped his arm, tracing the red line of a scar running down it. He jerked back, startled, but she didn't seem to notice, deep in contemplation. "Your scar ... a Vigoroth?"

He nodded, licking his lips nervously. "The Rainforest Trail."

"I speak to an explorer then," she said. "How interesting. I haven't seen one of your kind yet this season."

"You're familiar with Lorelei's travel-based trainer classes?" Ash asked, catching the reference.

The corner of Roxanne's lip twitched upward. "Of course. Who am I to scorn the wisdom of an Elite? I'm delighted you're familiar with the work; it's rare for me to find a traveling trainer with a similar knowledge base to my students."

Ash felt a tiny bubble of pride at that. "I was taught by Professor Oak in Kanto."

"I see. That would explain much. We've had him give video lectures here once or twice. His lessons have always been enlightening, if not always apt for Hoenn's untamed lands." She paused, tapping her finger to her chain. "It must have been quite the walk to arrive here in the midday heat, especially if you're regathering your strength after the Rainforest Trail. What say you to staying for a time? You could help my students with their training exercises."

Ash considered for a moment. He had nothing planned for the remainder of the day, but his team needed to recuperate if they were going to be at full strength for tomorrow. Not to mention, he wasn't about to reveal Oblivion as his trump card. "I only have a few pokémon, and I don't want to tire them out before our battle."

Roxanne nodded, thoughtful. "Of course. Let's have you sharpen my students' knowledge, then, rather than merely their battle expertise." She strode amid Rhyhorn and Marill and Aron, unperturbed by the battles cries and scuffling pokémon. Motioned for him to follow. "Elimar!" she suddenly barked.

A gangly student with a Graveler stood at attention. "Instructor!"

"Ash here is assisting us for the day. Tell him how pokémon are classified into types."

The trainer's eyes darted to Ash. He gulped. "Their organs?"

Roxanne waited silently, watching him and Ash. She dipped her head at Ash's questioning glance.

"Elaborate," he said, adopting the authoritative voice he'd heard countless times from Professor Oak. He crossed his arms.

"Um, you see, all pokémon have a natural internal energy to them that's converted into the energy of their type by specialized organs ... so we classify pokémon into types based on which organs they have. For elements not of their type, pokémon only have subordinate cell clusters, which is less efficient and not nearly as powerful at converting energy."

Elimar sounded like he was reciting the answer more than Ash would have liked, but he was impressed nonetheless. "And how do you explain normal-types?"

"They have a generalized catch-all organ that's able to convert their energy into most elements. It gives them a greater diversity of moves with more power to them than subordinate cell clusters are capable of, but it can't compare to a specialized organ for a given type."

"Not bad," Ash said, offering the stressed trainer a grin. He waved a hand. "You can get back to your bout. Your Graveler looks impressive."

Elimar choked out a thanks and quickly turned away from him and Roxanne.

Roxanne tilted her head. "You did nicely there, Ash. How about this? I'm going to walk around and give the students combat pointers, but I'd like you to seek out random students and test their knowledge. It should keep them on their toes. Don't make the questions easy. Worst case scenario, they don't know and you teach them something new." She flashed him a smile before turning away. "I'll make it worth your while."

Ash watched as she walked away, puzzled. He didn't mind the task – far from it, he'd hate to return to his Pokémon Center room, waiting for tomorrow's gym battle and letting his nerves build and build – but he was still trying to understand the young gym leader. She had an unflappable confidence, which he liked, and he was starting to realize that the champion had chosen her for her future potential rather than the strength she now held.

The following hours passed in a blur of anxious students and rapid-fire questions. Ash had always privately judged trainers that became students rather than face the risks of the traditional journey – Gary called them cowards – but he found himself surprised by their astute answers. And he met students that challenged his preconceptions. A Sinnoh immigrant that was attending university to make friends in her new homeland. A dark-haired boy with a burn scar on his face, one eye permanently half-lidded, who told Ash he'd been on a journey before he was almost killed by the temperamental Magmar he was given as a starter. A crippled girl whose envious side-glances told him more clearly than words that she would've ventured into the wilderness with her Shinx if she could.

He'd just finished quizzing Elimar for the fourth or fifth time when a bell chime resounded through the courtyard. Blinking, he looked up and realized the sky had turned the dusky purple of late evening. The lonely barks of feral Zigzagoon echoed from the streets, and Cirrus was nodding off on his shoulder. It had become late.

Laughing and jostling each others' shoulders, students snatched up backpacks and waved farewells to Instructor Roxanne. Some wished Ash good luck on his gym battle tomorrow, promising to be in the stands cheering. He smiled and thanked them – unsure what else to say. A girl that Ash vaguely remembered from earlier smiled at him, eyes a piercing blue, her hair shining deep gold in the pools of darkness. Her friends giggled and shoved her forward; she gave them a dirty look but smoothed her skirt and approached him regardless.

"Anything else you want to ask me?" she asked with a playful tilt of her head.

"Uh." Ash swallowed, aware of all the expectant eyes on him. _There's no way she's –_ _ _Would anyone really_ __– She's probably just really into pok_ _émon training._ _Right?  
_

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I can ask you one last question. Why is it taboo to keep attacking a pokémon after it loses consciousness?"

Tittering from her friends. The girl crossed her arms "Falling unconscious indicates that a pokémon has entered a healing trance to prevent long-term damage," she said flatly. "The only reliable way to kill a pokémon is to keep attacking it after it goes into its healing trance, so it's banned from competitive battling because we're not barbarians."

She turned and was about to slink off when a half-remembered memory flashed in Ash's mind. Golden hair. Laughter. He frowned. "Hold on. Do I know you from somewhere?"

The girl glanced back at him with a frown of her own. "No. Unless you know an Amara, you're thinking of someone else."

Silence settled over the courtyard as the last students left. Ash stood there, embarrassed but also with the uneasy sense that he'd forgotten something important to him. He wasn't sure whether to dwell on his latest social failure or attempt to grasp the memory before it vanished. He sighed. _I just need to focus on what I'm good at. Then maybe everything else will fall into place._

Roxanne drifted over and stood silently beside him. She stared into the night sky, her face a pale reflection of the courtyard's tungsten lights. "My thanks for today, Ash. It may not have seemed much to you, but my students already aspire to match your expertise. It'll make my job ..." Here a smile tugged at her lips. "Much more lively."

"I may have been lucky enough to be taught by Professor Oak, but I wouldn't call myself an expert," Ash said.

Roxanne cast her gaze from the stars and smirked at him. "I should hope not. I couldn't adequately reward an expert for his time. But rookies are all the same, quick to accept even trifling gains in their pursuit of power."

Ash felt himself grin. He hadn't thought she was serious about her earlier promise to reward him, but he should have guessed otherwise. The dark-haired gym leader, with her sharp eyes and angular face, was the epitome of seriousness. He wondered if she'd ever been a giggling young girl like her students.

"A trifling gain, huh?" He raised an eyebrow. "You've got my attention."

Roxanne dangled a key from her fingers, a gleam in her eyes, and beckoned for Ash to follow her to a dimly lit corner of the courtyard. A rusted door was inset in the wall, the sort to go overlooked as a storage closet or perhaps a molding pipe room. He watched with intrigue as she unlocked the door. Swung it open. With a side-eye at Cirrus still snoozing on his shoulder, he followed her inside.

Must and gloom. Ash squinted beneath the dark outlines of rafters as Roxanne found a dangling light-bulb and switched it on. He grimaced at the burst of light; shadows flooded into the deepest corners of what he now recognized as a storage room. Cobwebbed stacks of rummage lay near his feet: fishing poles, rain-resistant backpacks, yellowed maps, and coiled ropes. Deeper in the stacks loomed higher. The further back Ash looked, the more dated the items seemed to become. He was in a room, he realized uneasily, crammed with deserted trainer gear.

"It's a rare feat to qualify for the Ever Grande Conference," Roxanne said, sitting on a crate labelled _Travel Guides_. "Most that have such dreams never realize them. I imagine the majority of ex-trainers let their equipment collect dust in closets, but at least some think to donate it to the university. Of course, most of our students don't need outdoor equipment."

Ash took another step into the room. The floor creaked beneath him, and he remembered urban legends of ghosts possessing abandoned antiques, cursing those with the misfortune to bring them into their homes. Suppressed a shudder. "Is this ... supposed to be some sort of lesson on dedication?"

Roxanne blinked, then actually laughed. "No, no. It it what you make of it, I suppose, but I intended to offer you whatever you find useful here. As you can see, we don't quite make the best use of it."

Ash reassessed the rummage. His time on the Rainforest Trail had cost him his tent, not to mention dozens of smaller essentials including his flashlight, rollable sleeping bag, and utility knives. It would be a considerable relief on his funds to restock for free. _And who knows what else I can find here?_ He knelt down to begin sifting through a pile of bagged tents.

Half an hour later, he'd shoved his own small stack of equipment into his backpack. He dusted off his jeans and stood up with a swell of satisfaction. While he hadn't found top-of-the-line Devon gear underneath the coats of dust, he'd replaced his missing equipment and collected some new supplies as well. He was leery at first of using a sleeping bag left here for Rattata to nest in, but he managed to find a newer one still in its packaging. His added supplies included a combat knife – something he'd wished he had in the rainforest – and toys meant for the pokémon that hatched from the white egg.

Ash sneezed. Wiping his eyes, he looked over at Roxanne, who was reading a book beneath the glow of the lightbulb. Cirrus dozed in her lap; the sleepy-eyed Swablu had become tired of his jostling shoulder and abandoned him for a better roost. Roxanne petted her between the turn of each page.

"I'm guessing there aren't any satellite phones or forgotten evolutionary stones in here? Maybe long-lost legendary artifacts?"

Roxanne glanced up from her book. "I'm not hiding any treasures in here if that's what you're asking," she said wryly. "Travel equipment is a more practical reward anyway. And it should help you preserve your wallet until the Summer Fair."

Ash blinked. "Summer Fair?"

"It's a historic fair that begins next week. Merchants from across Hoenn gather on Rustboro's streets to sell their wares, and even a handful from foreign shores are known to make appearances. Because of our proximity to Meteor Falls, the majority of trades at the fair used to be in rare metals, but these days there's plenty to interest trainers. Some internationally known breeders will be there, including a good friend of mine." She tapped a finger to her chin. "You might have heard of him. He's from Kanto too."

Ash frowned in contemplation. "You think it's worth sticking around for? I'd planned to catch a boat to Dewford the day after our gym battle."

He couldn't deny that a gathering of international breeders appealed to him – his pulse quickened thinking of all the young and colorful pokémon – but it would be hard on his wallet. The best breeders were highly sought after, both as a source of tamed pets and a way for wealthier trainers to acquire exotic teams. It wasn't uncommon for certain pokémon to be purchased months prior to hatching. Even as he spoke, he recalled the funds on his currency card, adding to it the meager amount he'd accumulated from trainers on the route to Petalburg and his probable winnings from Roxanne. Would it even be enough?

"Denying yourself the opportunity would be a mistake if you consider the pros and cons," Roxanne said. "It's not commonly known outside the profession, but breeders reserve a set amount of the pokémon they raise to sell at the Summer Fair and a few other events like Snowpoint's Midwinter Festival. It's a PR move to raise their intentional profiles, although most also hope to reproduce Yukimura Nursery's rise to stardom after they sold a Togepi to the young trainer that became Champion Cynthia. It's a chance to add certain pokémon to your team that you won't get anywhere else."

Ash inhaled a breath at the mention of Champion Cynthia. He idolized most of the living pokémon masters, but he'd had a fan crush on Cynthia ever since he watched her exhibition match two winters ago. Snow had danced from the skies, adorning her dark dress with pinpricks of white, and with bell-like laughter she outwitted her opponent so elegantly Ash had been entranced.

That decided it.

Roxanne must have seen the decision reflected in his eyes, for a slight smile graced her lips. "I'm sure there are enough university students willing to battle if you need a cash flow while you're here." She stood up and delivered Cirrus into his arms, the Swablu snuggling closer to him as she dreamed. "... and now a rematch won't ruin your schedule should you lose against me."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Ash said with a grin.

Roxanne regarded him. "Then rest well. Tomorrow is the first test of your worth as a trainer."

~O~

_Lightning splintered through the rainforest night, illuminating dozens of glowing eyes, watching Ash with killer intent._

_Shivering, scrabbling through the mud, he hunted for his knife. But the attempt came too late. And the Vigoroth were fast. Blindingly fast. A white blur tackled him into the mud and knocked the air out of his lungs, trapping him with claws that sunk into his tender flesh. He writhed and screamed but it only made his blood gush forth faster, and the Vigoroth's eyes held no mercy as it extended a claw to slice through his neck_ __–_ _

Ash woke, gasping, in his Pokémon Center room, heart shuddering and throat dry. It was just a nightmare. A nightmare like the dozens he'd had since that night on the _S.S. Cactus_. A nightmare ... that was all. He couldn't help the shivering and cold terror, but most of all he was relieved it wasn't real.

He sighed. Remembered that only a stretch of hours remained between him and the first consequential battle of his life. _Couldn't be a worse time for this, huh?_

He rubbed his eyes and realized he'd clawed the blankets away while he slept. He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, not sure if he was nauseated or just needed a glass of water. Moonlight spilled across the mattress and illuminated his team: the Swablu snuggled in the pillows, the Type: Null twitching in his dreams ... the incubator and the egg inside it, glowing silver in the night.

He winced, flashes of bloodied Vigoroth claws still fresh in his mind. The egg had haunted his thoughts ever since he'd recovered it from Rico's bloodied corpse. Left him with giddy anticipation and yet also shivering dread.

It was strange.

He'd handled death on an intellectual level before. The Oak family. Dad. The Aqua Armada, contributing their own tally. But he'd never seen his own end reflected in hungry yellow eyes. Hadn't felt death's claw brush his cheek or the feeble fleshiness of his human body. All it would have taken was a severed artery and he'd be just another corpse in the rainforest, surrounded by junk that would rot slower than him.

_Aren't I supposed to feel ... more?_

He'd expected to be emotional. He always assumed near-death experiences changed people, but when he remembered the weeping rain and the Vigoroth baying as they hunted him through the night, all he felt was revulsion. His life hadn't flashed before his eyes. He hadn't felt enlightened either. Just scared shitless, trying not to throw up.

Ash shook his head. Eased his bare feet onto the floor, trying not to wake Cirrus. He saw a crumpled t-shirt on the carpet – the one he'd worn the night of the Vigoroth attack. Were all those bloodstains really his? He didn't remember bleeding that much. The rainforest nights were all so muddy and surreal.

He grimaced as he cast about the floor for yesterday's t-shirt and jeans. Pulled them on, wincing at the stiff scratchiness of the material. The nightmare had scoured sleep from his mind, and he felt restless, in need of fresh air to clear his thoughts. A morning walk would do him good.

He glanced at his team and decided to let them rest. It would be safe enough here in the heart of Rustboro.

By the time Ash emerged from the Pokémon Center, the moon had set. Dawn light was just starting to touch the sky, edging the skyscrapers in pink. He'd managed more sleep than he thought.

The streets were deserted. He breathed in the chilled air as he wandered in that surreal time between night and morning, thinking back on the rainforest. It wasn't his ineptitude that bothered him – he had long since forgiven himself for the over-confidence that led him to the Rainforest Trail. He was a rookie, and for the next few months mistakes were going to be his specialty. No, what bothered him was his vulnerability.

He'd never felt smaller than that night trapped in a black, blood-smoked pond with a Crawdaunt. Even against the Aqua Armada he'd thought – perhaps delusionally – that he had choices. But in the rainforest night, he felt in his bones that he was prey, that death could be his destiny despite his determination to survive.

He hated that vulnerability. Hated himself for recognizing it, for letting it hook its claws under his skin and strip away his self-assurances before today's gym battle.

Ash shivered and thrust his hands into his pockets, staring up at the fading stars amidst the pink-rimmed sky.

 _The person I was in Littleroot wasn't enough,_ he realized. _Even the person I am now isn't enough for the trials we'll face on the road. I need to keep evolving, just like my pokémon – maybe not until this vulnerability is gone, but until I can live with it._

He watched as a flock of Wingull took off from the rooftops and wheeled before the skyscrapers, white dots against the mirror-shimmer of Devon Tower.

Yes, he knew the road he needed to walk, but it was unsettling how long it seemed. Standing with eight badges pinned to his vest, hands callused from hard months of training accompanied by an Altaria and ... whatever Oblivion became when he evolved ... that was hard to imagine. Was his current self – the self that fled in cold terror from a troop of untrained Vigoroth – capable of such an evolution? For the first time in his life, he was uncertain.

Ash sighed. He stood there for a time, lost in thought, staring at the wheeling Wingull as if their flight patterns had answers. In the dawn silence, he felt a kinship with the inhabitants of the Rusted City, clinging to their homes despite the war-scarred landscape. He stared down at his own scars, red lines now engraved into his arms. Inhaled the chill air. He'd need to dig even deeper wells of determination if he was going to win Ever Grande gold.

A feral Zigzagoon and her kit wandered past him, nosing at a dumpster. They leapt onto its rim as he watched. The tiny Zigzagoon kit, quivering with excitement, slipped and fell face-first inside.

Ash smiled and shook his head. _You know what? Sometimes you just have to keep walking forward. Even when you don't know what the hell you're doing._ His doubts lingered, but he didn't need to figure things out straightaway. He'd get there on his own time.

_Me, Oblivion, Cirrus, and the friends I have yet to meet._

~O~

In a cramped room beneath the Rustboro University Stadium, Ash sat on a wooden bench, tightening his fingerless gloves. The room itself was dusty, even ill-kempt, compared to the vast stadium that waited above him. Tattered posters advertising past Ever Grande Conferences lined the walls. Had Ash arrived a few months earlier, the room would have hosted dozens of trainers gunning for their last badge before the Ever Grande Conference registration period ended. But that time had come and gone, and this early in the season, Ash was the lone challenger.

_I hope we're ready for this._

Ash tightened his grip on Oblivion's pokéball, enjoying the cold press of the metal against his fingers. He was thankful the stadium was open to the sky, that if he listened he could hear the university bells, the shouts of students playing frisbee outside. It was a small reassurance that helped him breathe steadily and ignore his pounding heart.

The referee's stern voice echoed down the corridor. "You're up."

Ash drew in a breath and looked up at the doorway. Heavy with shadow, and beyond it the sloping corridor that led to the stadium battlefield. "Coming," he said, clipping Oblivion's pokéball back to his belt. He ran his fingers across Cirrus's pokéball, reassuring himself it was there, pulled the brim of his hat down low –

_The moment of truth's here at last._

– stood up from the bench –

_Hope you're watching, Dad._

– then fixed his gaze on the doorway and strode forward.

As he banished distraction from his mind, he hiked up the sloping tunnel into the glare of the white sun. The walls of the stadium towered into the sky, with hundreds of stadium seats arranged above him. Already there were close to thirty spectators waiting for the match to begin.

Roughly three-quarters of the spectators were students in uniform; they were intimately familiar with this stadium, knew the tricks of Roxanne's challengers well. Most Ash recognized from yesterday, using the breaks between classes to bask in the sunlight and trade coin based on their opinion of the challenger of the hour. The other quarter of the spectators were likely visitors to the Rusted City. They'd come to trade merchandise and political favors with the Devon Corporation.

A girl with a Sandshrew in her arms – wearing the university's red-and-umber uniform – pointed to Ash and called, "The challenger! The third challenger of the season has come to fight!"

A roaring cheer rose up as he arrived at his side of the field. Gamblers in the seating began calling out odds for his victory. He hadn't even revealed his pokémon yet, but many liked a wager and several students from yesterday crowded to place bets on him.

Roxanne studied him from across the field. As he locked eyes with her, she nodded. Then she stepped forward.

"This is an official match between Trainer Ash Ketchum and Gym Leader Roxanne!" she called. The acoustics of the stadium made her voice echo. "Ever Grande League rules apply to this match: swapping is permitted, killing is grounds for immediate disqualification, and forfeits will be recognized. Both challenger and respondent have settled upon a two versus two battle. May Rayquaza witness our contest!"

The referee signaled a Baltoy, and clear barriers with an iridescent shimmer flickered to life around the battlefield. Psychic netting, Ash realized, to protect the spectators from stray attacks. The referee stepped behind the barrier, but Ash and Roxanne remained unprotected. As trainers, they were expected to have a pokémon at their side capable of defending them.

 _I'll need to teach my team Protect soon_ , Ash thought. For now he wasn't worried. Gym-trained pokémon were skilled enough that he wouldn't be at risk from wildly overpowered attacks.

Across the battlefield, Roxanne expanded a pokéball and tossed it above her. A Geodude appeared on the dusty field in a flash of red; it smirked at Ash and punched the air.

Ash's hand fell to Cirrus's pokéball with breath of relief. May had told him Roxanne's team composition during their travels together, so he'd prepared his team to fight a Geodude and Nosepass. He wasn't sure how well they'd do if he was forced to improvise.

"I've chosen first as gym leader. Now show me what you can do, Ash," Roxanne said.

He unclipped Cirrus's pokéball and threw it into the air, his aim steady despite hands trembling from adrenaline. "Let's do this, Cirrus!"

The Swablu burst from her pokéball and arced upward into the bright blue sky, streaking past the spectators who cheered as passed. She circled back towards Ash, eyes shining with determination. _I can do this!_ her expression seemed to say.

Ash nodded. "That's the spirit, girl." He took a deep breath and surveyed the battlefield. His mind was whirling, rushing through hundreds of what-if scenarios, contingency plans, strategies, tricks. He shook his head, clearing the chaos but leaving the information in the back of his mind where it could be summoned in a split-second if needed.

He was ready.

Roxanne narrowed her eyes at him, the look on her face one of cool assessment. The moment seemed to come into focus. Ash felt the sun's heat on his skin, the grit beneath the soles of his shoes.

The referee held a hand up. "Ready your pokémon, then wait for my signal."

"Smack Down, Geodude."

"Open with a Disarming Voice, Cirrus."

Ash heard the cry of Wingull, invisible against the blue sky above them. The flapping of the university flags.

"Fight!" The hand dropped.

Cirrus shot forward, a white blur streaking toward the Geodude. With a shrill cry, pink rings flared from her beak and burst outward to slam into the rock-type. The Geodude was buffeted back with a pained grunt. Ash grinned as she angled past her opponent and arced back towards his side of the battlefield. That opening salvo had merely been a test of the Geodude's reflexes. It hadn't even had time to attempt dodging, much less perform a Smack Down.

He could risk putting Cirrus in close, then.

"Good try, Geodude!" Roxanne called from the other side of the battlefield. "You know the plan."

Ash narrowed his eyes but ignored the gym leader. He couldn't afford to over-analyze things while they had momentum. "Steel Wing! Hit it at speed!"

Cirrus blurred toward the Geodude again, wings flashing silver as her feathers became sharp as knives. She was blinding beneath the tropic sun, dangerous in her acceleration, but the Geodude didn't move. It crossed its fists to shield itself.

Dust flew up from the battlefield as Cirrus smashed into the Geodude, slicing its wrinkled flesh with steel. A scream tore from its throat. Cirrus didn't relent, letting out a cry of her own and swiping at it again with her wings.

"Back off, Cirrus!" Ash called. She might be lost in the heat of battle, but he could see the coolness in Roxanne's eyes. She wouldn't be so easily overwhelmed by an aerial advantage. His neck prickled. Something was up.

Cirrus shot upward, high above the Geodude's striking range. Ash exhaled a sigh of relief even as his nerves shuddered with apprehension. He eyed the Geodude critically. If he had Cirrus disperse a Mist as ground cover –

The Geodude floated into the sky.

Cirrus had glanced back toward Ash and didn't see its approach. Didn't expect its approach – she had no reason to be vigilant up in the air. The levitation ability of the average Geodude was rudimentary, its electromagnetism limiting it to a few feet from the ground. Even lifelong levitating species such as the Goldeen line lacked the technical proficiency to hover in high skies. The idea of a flying Seaking was ridiculous. But it should have been no more ridiculous than a flying Geodude.

"Evade, Cirrus!" Ash shouted even as he blinked furiously, hardly believing what he saw. Roxanne's Geodude must have had the requisite strength to evolve into a Graveler in order to accomplish something so advanced. But it remained it its base form. He exhaled sharply as the implication clicked in his mind.

It specialized in aerial combat.

Cirrus balked and managed to dart clear a split second before the Geodude's Focus Punch landed. Shrieking in alarm, she arrowed to the far side of the field even as the Geodude smirked.

"I enjoy this part," Roxanne said with a smile. "Get up your momentum, Geodude, then finish this."

Ash's mind whirled. He'd expected to use Cirrus at long range with hit-and-run tactics. She wasn't trained for air-to-air offense. Worse, he doubted she was assertive enough to handle it this soon. "Agility!"

The Geodude was already blurring circuits around the battlefield like a ball whirling about a funnel, faster and faster as it built momentum. To Ash it appeared a brown blur – a brown blur that made his head swim attempting to watch. He shifted his attention to Cirrus.

The Swablu wreathed herself in a bright aura, a sign that her speed would now be enhanced at the cost of continually edging her ever closer to exhaustion. It was a cost she would have if to bear if she was going to stand a chance.

"Be prepared to use Steel Wing to block attacks!" Ash called. "Things will move too quickly now for me to give orders."

Cirrus nodded in acknowledgment, but even from where he stood on the ground, Ash could see the worry in her eyes. She didn't trust herself without his commands. He grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. If she could withstand the Geodude's next attack and break its momentum, he'd have to improvise something.

Then the Geodude began to glow.

Shining with the radiance of a miniature sun, it broke from its circuit, a star-white missile careening toward its target. The seconds seemed to slow as Ash watched, belatedly realizing that the attack was a perfect Double Edge. It made his eyes water to look at. But he couldn't tear them away.

Cirrus's wings flashed silver but on an instinctive level he knew it wouldn't be enough. She knew it too. Dived down in a last-ditch attempt to dodge. The blazing missile of light pursued in its own sharp dive.

Ash heard the impact as an implosion of light blinded him. His eardrums roared. Dust billowed up from the battlefield and shards of rock spattered the iridescent netting, shimmering the psychic weave into existence. The crowd gasped but it seemed to come a beat too late to Ash's ears.

The light died. He stared through the dust with an unfamiliar numbness. The beat of his heart felt strange, sluggish. As the dust dissipated and feathers floated up from the small white lump of a Swablu, Ash recalled her to her pokéball. He tried to scrub the image of her broken sprawl from his mind.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Okay." He wanted to rage with frustration at how utterly his plan had fallen apart. But Professor Oak had always told him that battle plans fell apart. It was the natural outcome. A trainer had to adapt – that was the difference between good trainers and mediocre ones. So he would adapt.

Ash breathed in and out, letting his heart settle. His fingers traced the silver inscription on Oblivion's pokéball. He still had his hidden ace, and the Geodude now floating beside Roxanne was heavily battered. Roxanne had outmaneuvered him in the first round, but Oblivion could take the second and deliver worse pain than he was dealt.

He hadn't lost. Not yet.

"I'm impressed. I've never seen someone push a pokémon's levitation abilities to their limit," he said, his voice echoing across the stadium.

"Thank you. I'm pleased with the results myself." Roxanne eyed the pokéball in his hand. "I'm curious what pokémon you'll choose next. A Kanto starter?"

Ash laughed, a shadow of his old confidence returning. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

He enlarged the pokéball, tightening his grip on it as he readied to throw. The crowd hushed with anticipation. The tropic sun beat down on him; a trickle of sweat dripped from his forehead. _Time to win this._

He hurled the pokéball into the air. It arced above him, a mere speck against clouds. "Oblivion, the fight's on!"

The Type: Null coalesced with a howl that echoed across the battlefield, dust swirling in his wake. His green eyes burned fiercely beneath the darkness of his mask; his black fur glistened in the heat-shimmer of high noon. He was immense, his great shadow falling across the battlefield to eclipse his opponent. Savagely beautiful.

Roxanne stared at him in confusion, then a wicked sort of glee, as Ash caught and reclipped Oblivion's pokéball.

The crowd roared.

A new flurry of betting rose, while the rest of the spectators surged against the rails, jostling for a better glimpse. Several university students held up their pokédexes, but even on the field beneath them Ash could hear synthesized _Error: Species Unknown_ read-outs. He smiled. Waited with calm confidence.

"It's been too long since I've had a turn at a genuinely interesting battle. My colleagues are always luckier than me in that regard." Roxanne pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear with an exhilarated grin. "Let's begin."

The Geodude came in fast, fists clenched. Oblivion let it land a punch square to his chest. The blow would have hurt ... if he hadn't been channeling Iron Defense. He batted the hovering rock-type aside with a claw, snorting contemptuously.

"Tackle."

Oblivion roared, rearing up on his hind legs, and slammed the Geodude into the dirt. The Geodude hadn't the speed to evade – not without circuiting the battlefield for momentum. It crumpled beneath the weight of the Type: Null's claw. Its stony armor cracked with a sickening crunch.

Oblivion watched it fall unconscious, and for an instant Ash could almost feel the battle rage in the Type: Null's veins, the emotionally raw scars in his memories, the instinctive need to attack. Pure in its simplicity.

Ash shook himself as Oblivion went to seize the Geodude with his mouth. "No," he called. "It's enough."

A red beam of light absorbed the Geodude a heartbeat later. Roxanne pocketed its pokéball, assessing Oblivion speculatively. "I was rather hoping to learn more about your pokémon before Geodude went down," she admitted. "But no matter. I have full faith in my next partner – let's go, Nosepass!"

The pokémon that coalesced onto the battlefield was stone-still, bearing the visage of a worn statue first carved by men and later the elements. Ash had never seen a real Nosepass and was startled to discover it was no more animated than the imitation statues displayed at the Pewter Museum. He tilted his head, as if a different angle would reveal a spark of liveliness to it. But it didn't even blink.

"The ancient tribes of Hoenn used Nosepass to defend their holy places," Roxanne said. Her lips quirked. "Or merely statues of Nosepass if a bluff was all they could manage. They're formidable guards."

Oblivion tossed his head at the Nosepass, unimpressed.

"First move's yours," Ash said, waving for Roxanne to proceed. It was a less magnanimous gesture than it appeared. Oblivion only had a few tricks he could wield against rock-types if he didn't outclass them, and Ash intended to withhold those tricks until the ideal moment to strike.

"I won't argue with that. Sandstorm, Nosepass!"

Dust whipped up around Ash. It only took seconds for it to build into a roaring vortex. Sand and grit beat against him, buffeting his clothes, and he raised an arm to shield his face. In the distance Oblivion was barely visible through the sandstorm.

He grit his teeth. Based on his research into Nosepass, he suspected he knew what was about to happen. "Brace yourself, Oblivion!"

"Now u– Roc– Tomb, –pass!" Orders muffled in the sandstorm's howl.

Ash only saw the hurtling shadows of the rocks as they fell, slamming into Oblivion with brutal force. Heard the Type: Null's ear-piercing roar. He felt a smirk flicker over his face despite the circumstances. For now pain would only focus Oblivion … make him angrier, the attacks by an unseen foe in particular.

The strategy at play here wasn't difficult for him to grasp. Oblivion would see little but confusion in the buffeting dust; Roxanne was banking on that blindness to hide her Nosepass and shield it from harm. Under normal circumstances, sandstorms left battling pokémon at a mutual disadvantage, but Nosepass had the innate ability to detect bioelectricity. It could strike, cloaked in sand, while Oblivion stumbled blind.

But this time Ash's heart wasn't palpitating in reaction to her tricks. His thoughts had a clarity of focus instead of tangled panic. He took a deep breath. Devised a countermeasure.

Listening past the storm gusts for Roxanne's next command, he caught the first snatches of her voice and shouted to Oblivion. "Thunder Wave, full power! Discharge it across the field then move!"

Dazzling electricity weaved across the battlefield with a crackle. The faint shadow of a Type: Null darted through the dancing lights. Seconds later, a Rock Tomb crashed down but from the silence Ash knew it hadn't hit Oblivion.

He waited for Roxanne to order another attack, then shouted for Oblivion to repeat his previous maneuver. Once again the Nosepass's attack struck empty air – though this time it was a cluster of glistening-sharp rocks that whistled through the sandstorm. Power Gem.

"It worked!" Ash pumped a fist. He'd guessed that the Nosepass couldn't detect Oblivion's electrical signature if the entire field was awash with lightning; ordering Oblivion to move under the guise of the electricity was an extra measure to prevent him from being hit when the Nosepass targeted his last-known location. Roxanne was now at an impasse. As long as the sand and dust howled, the battle would remain at a standstill.

The sandstorm dissipated. Ash casually brushed the sand off his shoulder and regarded Roxanne with a smirk – he couldn't help himself. The two trainers stared each other down as the crowd cheered, relieved the battle had become visible again.

"Let's settle this," Roxanne said.

Ash nodded. "Approach for a Tackle, Oblivion!"

"Volley Thunderbolts, Nosepass!"

The Nosepass reacted fast, striking Thunderbolts at the space Oblivion had occupied mere seconds ago again and again. Oblivion was faster. He evaded the Thunderbolts and sprinted for the Nosepass, his body wreathing in a silver aura as he approached. The steel reinforcement to his body from Iron Defense would pack pain into his Tackle that the rock-type wouldn't soon forget.

Oblivion nimbly leapt from the path of a final Thunderbolt and rammed into the Nosepass, striking with the full force of his body. The boom echoed throughout the stadium; the Nosepass skidded back to crash against the walls. Cuts and scratches scored its body but it leveled itself with its stone feet. Stared down the Type: Null.

Oblivion stalked closer, circling for the finishing blow.

"Power Gem."

A storm of glittering rocks leapt from the Nosepass. Cuts peppered Oblivion's legs, marking hits, but most ricocheted off his mask. The Type: Null snorted.

"Iron Defense. Attack again."

Oblivion howled and leapt for the Nosepass, wreathed in silver, eyes burning with primal fury. The Nosepass fired a point-blank Thunderbolt quicker than it had ever reacted. Lightning forked through the air and converged on Oblivion as he smashed into the rock-type. For a heartbeat the electricity danced across the Type: Null, golden flickers, at once unspeakably beautiful and deadly.

Then the lightning shot off the steel coating of Oblivion's body and surged into the Nosepass. Sparks crackled off its stone-still form.

A strange sound suddenly filled the stadium – slow, guttural groans. The Nosepass had broken its steadfast silence at long last. Ash watched, hardly believing his eyes, as it shuddered from the electricity. It attempted to roll away from the Type: Null looming above it but was helpless in its convulsions. Vanquished.

Ash stood frozen, words stuck in his throat, heart fluttering in his chest. He was too stunned to even smile. _Have we really ... Have we actually_ –

Roxanne voiced the words that Ash didn't dare speak. "Congratulations, Ash. You've won."

Beneath a cheering crowd and the heat of the tropic sun, Ash and Oblivion surged toward each other and embraced.

~O~

Midnight.

Ash sat in his Pokémon Center room, listening to the howl of Mightyena outside his window. The thin pane of glass hadn't kept chilled air from creeping in, and his knees were drawn up against him as he sat atop the sheets of his bed, gripped by insomnia for the second night running. Not because of nightmares, just fleeting snatches of thoughts and memories making him restless without a clear reason. Visions of today's gym battle flickered behind his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes – both Cirrus's crushing defeat and Oblivion's roaring victory.

He would need to find some trainers Cirrus could overcome before the loss affected her confidence.

As he sat there, staring at shadow patterns on the wall, some instinct stirred within him. He drew in a sharp breath. Eyes darted about his surroundings. It didn't take long for him to focus on the white egg encased in its incubator. The twitches from the preceding hours had ceased, and the egg was still.

He barely registered shuffling out of bed, his bare feet padding on the wooden floor. He stood before the egg, lit silver by a pool of moonlight, staring.

Ash didn't spare a glance as Oblivion whined behind him, roused from slumber by instincts of his own. He slipped beside his trainer to gaze upon the egg, green eyes eerie in the moonlight. Ash settled a hand on him, scratching his neck, before a crystal certainty settled over him. He reached into the incubator and gently grasped the egg, lifting it into the air.

It twitched once more. The creature inside its shell had stirred, as if aware its time in the incubator had drawn to an end. Before Ash's eyes, a little dent appeared, cracks fracturing outward from its origin. The iridescent sheen of the egg seemed glowing in the room's darkness.

He settled himself on the floor with deliberate slowness, resting the egg in his lap. It was warm to the touch; he traced the spreading cracks on its shell. Time passed. Ash and Oblivion remained entranced by the egg, but even in their hushed silence something awakened Cirrus. She shuffled across the bed. Widened her eyes and watched together with them in anticipation.

Hesitantly, Ash picked at the cracked shell. Smiled as it revealed a stubby hand, shiny and wet and white. The egg continued to break into pieces and the pokémon worked to free itself. He shivered – Oblivion, looming over him, did the same. Cirrus landed on Ash's tousled hair, too anxious to watch from the bed.

An upper fragment of the shell broke away and the egg tipped on its side. A little Ralts crawled out.

Ash watched with his breath caught in his throat as the Ralts stumbled to its feet, teetering unsteadily. His hands hovered near to catch it if it slipped. The Ralts flopped forward and emitted a tiny squeak.

Smiling, Ash helped it right itself.

The Ralts stared up at Ash, meeting his eyes with those that glimmered red in the moonlit shadows. It tilted its head and squeaked again, a slight sound compared to Oblivion's barks or Cirrus's chirps.

"Hello," Ash said and offered his hand, smile widening further as the Ralts reached out to touch it curiously. "It's nice to finally meet you."

The Ralts blinked at him, then squeaked at the shadowed Type: Null and tried to walk over to greet him. It made little headway with its stumbling steps.

Oblivion padded forward, dropping his masked head down to greet his new teammate, green eyes gazing at the Ralts with intensity. He nudged his mask against it; it squeaked again and tumbled backwards to the floor.

Ash laughed. He settled a hand on Oblivion's flank, running fingers through his fur as Cirrus fluttered onto the floor to get a better look at the hatchling. She cocked her head at it with a fluff of her feathers, spotting the bits of shell and sticky residue clinging to its skin. Assailed the Ralts with her wings, scrubbing it clean even as it blinked in confusion.

Shaking his head, Ash grinned at his team. Surrounded by the three of them, with the knowledge that each new dawn saw them a little stronger, an elated lightness washed over him.

For the first time since he started his journey in Hoenn, he felt truly at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was later than I might have mentioned to some of you! I'm editing a film together right now, and with all the late hours spent in the editing lab, everything else honestly just slipped my mind. 
> 
> Next chapter will be exciting to write for a couple reasons and I'm sure some of you have a few guesses about that. I have plans for what will happen but everyone's definitely welcome to put their arguments out there for what kinds pokémon they want to see at the Summer Fair. Nothing's set in stone until it's written!


End file.
